Child of the Wilderness
by AngelofMusic8578
Summary: Christine has a child... And Erik wants his daughter back! Not EC. Rated M for sexual content in first chapter. WARNING: Erik's not a likeable guy in the first couple chapters...
1. The Family

XxXxX

Somehow, Christine always knew that Marie-Eve was Erik's. She thought maybe not speaking about it would make it all go away, but as Marie-Eve grew up – her intense, yellow eyes, her pale skin, her posture, the proud manner in which she carried herself, her dark charisma – she was a complete reflection of _him_.

Christine remembered that night… She had fallen asleep in her dressing room after a long day of rehearsing _Don Juan Triumphant_. She had meant only to take a short nap, setting up a small cot on the floor of her dressing room. But when she awoke, the room was dark and the opera house was empty…

But Christine was not alone… she turned and saw him there… he had obviously entered through the mirror. He stood perfectly still, staring at her. A fire of lust and desire burned in those eyes, and she grew very afraid. She leapt from the cot and headed for the door, but Erik caught her arm, pulling her back.

"Please, Erik!" Christine cried.

"Why do you run from me?" he asked, his voice silky smooth. "Do you really think I would harm you?" He pulled her body firmly against his own. Her sweet feminine fragrance filled his senses.

"Erik… I love Raoul… I'm sorry! Please! Can't you just let us be?"

"That boy has blinded you! Don't you see? If you stay with him, he'll make you give up singing! Tell me, is that what you want?" He buried his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. "_This_ is what you want, isn't it?" Slowly, he brushed his lips along her neck, down her throat. "Be honest, now. Since I first came to you, you have wanted me, haven't you?" His voice was thick with a fierce hunger. One arm held her controllingly against himself, while the other reached inside her dressing gown, fondling her soft flesh.

Christine moaned. Yes, she had wanted him. She had wanted him _then_. But things change, she told herself. She realized long ago who she truly loved. It wasn't Erik. It was Raoul.

"Erik, please let me go!" Christine begged.

"Why do you deny me? I know you, Christine. It doesn't matter what I look like. Not when I sing to you. Not when I touch you…" His lips savoured her throat, moving across the vulnerable jugular vein. He could feel her pounding pulse. Then he felt her breathing slow. The spell he cast over her was overwhelming. She sank against him, her eyelids growing heavy and eventually closing. She was relenting to him, helpless to the power of his seductive caresses.

"It could be beautiful between us, don't you agree?"

"Yes…" she breathed.

"Tell me, Christine… What do you want?"

"I…" The swell of her chest rose and fell rapidly. The power he held over her was more than she could resist.

"Tell me."

"I want _you_," she whispered huskily.

Erik smiled to himself. He knew she would make the right choice. He spun her around and ripped off the dressing gown. With one quick motion, she was lying on the cot again, with him on top of her. Everything was so dark… all she could see of him was his white mask, looming over her. He leaned down, forcing her mouth open and kissing her violently, his tongue pushing its way into her mouth and tasting her sweetness. His lips slowly moved away from hers, trailing over her jaw, down her neck… His lips found her soft breasts with their hard nipples, which were quite noticeably erect. His mouth closed over one of those pulsing ends and he devoured the soft skin. He pulled her body up to meet his own as he suckled her, his lips and tongue tugging and pulling at the sensitive flesh.

"Erik…" she moaned. She writhed beneath him. Each touch of his fingers set her skin aflame. She wanted him… She wanted…

She wanted _him_?

No, that was wrong. She didn't want _him_. She wanted _Raoul_. Raoul… Raoul.

"Raoul!"

She felt Erik freeze. Then his hands grabbed her wrists and pinned them on either side of her head. His grip was tight and hard as steel. His touch was as cold as ice.

"_What did you say_?" he demanded. That white mask hovered only inches from her face now. She felt his hot breath on her cheek. His anger made the air thick and his fury hung over her like a heavy blanket. She couldn't breath.

"You _still_ cry out for him? You _still_ deny me? You _still_ return to him?"

"No, Erik! No!"

"Yes! Even now that boy has you under his control. Don't you see, Christine? He'll destroy you! He'll destroy us both!" Christine squeezed her eyes shut. Erik's excellent night-vision allowed him to see that her cheeks were wet with tears. He sighed heavily, and tried convincing her again. "What do you want, Christine?"

"I want…"

"Yes?"

"Raoul! I want Raoul! And nothing you do will change that!"

Christine closed her eyes and cringed, awaiting his fury. Surely he would scream at her. Probably strike her. Maybe, if he were angry enough, he'd decide to pull out his Punjab lasso and put it to use. But nothing happened. Only silence. Then she felt something that she wasn't expecting. His lips brushed along her throat, a gentle touch… As gentle as any touch he had ever bestowed on her… His lips travelled upwards, across her cheek. They halted beside her ear.

"I beg to differ…" was his whispered reply.

She felt his hands go to her hips. They slowly slid down to her thighs. Then to the inside of her thighs. Then, in one violent motion, she felt him force her legs open. There was a sharp stab of pain.

"Erik!"

"Allow me to show you just what it is that you're turning your back on!" he growled at her. He grabbed her backside and pulled her up close against him, deepening his entry.

"Erik! Please!"

He moved hard inside of her, his body sliding hotly against hers. She resisted at first. But then her body seemed to relax, falling into rhythm with his own. The boy might have her heart, but he knew that her spirit, some small part of her soul, would always belong to him. That was why she always came back to him. That was why she constantly submitted to him.

She participated willingly in his taking. Perhaps her heart did not want him, but he knew her body was yearning for him. She was hungry for him.

At last, they reached the peak of their pleasure, and with a ragged cry he fell on top of her. His mind was reeling. He felt dizzy. Rolling off of her, he pulled her into his arms again.

She belonged to him.

He fell asleep almost immediately. Their union had drained him.

She awoke the next morning. He was still there, his arms holding her possessively.

She was his.

Tears crept out of the corners of her eyes. She thought of Raoul. What would he think if he found out? She had wanted _Raoul_ to be the one to break her innocence. Raoul… the man she loved.

Erik awoke when he felt something wet against his chest. He opened his eyes and stared at her groggily.

Was she an angel?

Yes. She was an angel. _His_ angel. Beautiful, innocent, tender… And she was here with him.

With him?

Why would any angel want to be with a monster? Such things of beauty belonged in Heaven, not with demons. Desperately, he sought her eyes. Her face was buried into his chest, and when he pulled her away and looked into her eyes, he found them red with tears.

The memory of the previous night came back to him all at once.

Erik got off of her, the realization of what he had just done hit him full force, like a punch in the stomach. _What had he done_? He had tainted his angel, robbed her of her innocence! But worst of all, he had merely proved to her what everyone else already knew – that he was a monster! A demon! How could he have done something so terrible to one he claimed to love so much?

"Christine!" he cried in a gasping sob. He was practically hysterical. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't… please, I didn't _mean_ to! I'm sorry! Please, Christine, forgive me! I'm sorry!"

Christine stared at him in awe. Could this truly be the same man who came to her last night? That man had been cold and forceful. But _this_ man… He was so ashamed. He was so much like a child… a child starved of love and physical pleasure. He needed to feel loved. Surely, even she couldn't deny him that?

Christine took his head into her hands and cradled him against herself. She murmured reassuring words of forgiveness and comfort, while his arms hugged her tightly around her waist and he buried his face into her and sobbed anew.

She was unaware of when he left. She suddenly felt the warmth of sunlight entering through her small window, and noticed that her arms were empty. She was alone.

Christine composed herself and arrived at rehearsals like nothing ever happened. Two months later, the opening night of _Don Juan Triumphant_ took place. That fateful night when Ubaldo Piangi died, when Christine nearly became Erik's prisoner, when she had to buy Raoul's life for the price of a kiss…

Raoul and Christine left Paris behind them that night. They retreated to a small country town far away from the city. Christine wanted to get married right away. She was anxious to begin her new life with Raoul. And also, she feared that she might be pregnant…

Raoul didn't say anything about Marie-Eve's being born only seven months after their wedding, but Christine saw the look in his eyes when he held his daughter. Those eyes were so full of love for the precious bundle in his arms. Yet there was also a glimmer of pain and despair. A hurt that went beyond mere regret. Christine saw those eyes and instantly knew – Raoul knew who the true father was.

Two years later, Christine had another child by Raoul, who she named Richard. The family lived a simple life for many years in that little town…

Richard grew to be a handsome boy, like his father, though quiet and thoughtful. He had an active imagination and could often be found buried in some book, immersed in a fantasyland of dragons and kings and elves and witches.

Marie-Eve also was a quiet child. But unlike her brother, she tended to withdraw from others, and actually became quite the little recluse. She could spend virtually hours secluded in her room, rejecting any and all contact with her family, or anyone else for that matter. She was very pretty, but she held a dark charm that made her seem almost sinister. Moreover, she had a certain disregard for rules and discipline… but how intelligent she was! History, sciences, mathematics, art, philosophy… all subjects came easily to her.

But Marie-Eve's true claim to fame was her musical talent…

Christine was astonished when, one day at church, Marie-Eve sat at the organ and composed a most beautiful piece. Christine demanded to know where she had acquired such knowledge.

Marie-Eve simply shrugged. "I just know…"

Years went by in this manner. Richard soon was eight years old and popular at school. Marie-Eve was ten, and although she had become beautiful and bright and talented, none of the other children would have anything to do with her. Christine didn't understand how this could be.

"All of the children at school are afraid of her," Richard declared one day.

"What do you say that?" Christine asked.

"Because Emily was teasing me one day," Richard explained, "and Marie-Eve said that if she wasn't nice to me that a disaster beyond her imagination would occur."

Christine nearly dropped the dish she was washing. An echo from the past rang in her ears… "_Should these commands be ignored_, _a disaster beyond your imagination will occur_!"

Christine swallowed hard. "It that true, Marie-Eve?"

Marie-Eve smirked. "No one make fun of him anymore."

So here was the secret behind Richard's popularity and the other children's fear of Marie-Eve… She was threatening them all into liking Richard!

Just as Erik had once threatened Firmin and Andre into favouring Christine…

Christine knew this had to end. She had to stop Marie-Eve's reign of terror… before she ended up like Erik…

So that night when she went to tuck Marie-Eve into bed, she took in a chair and sat down.

"Marie-Eve, darling, we must talk."

"We talk all the time, Mama," Marie-Eve replied, uninterested.

"I thought maybe we could talk about school?"

"I like school. Madame Gobeil is very nice, and she thinks I'm smart."

"You are smart, child. But what about the other children? Don't you have any friends?"

Marie-Eve hesitated. "…No."

"Don't you think you would have more friends if you stopped threatening all the other children?"

"But Mama," Marie-Eve protested. "If I didn't threaten them, they'd all be mean to Richard! I love Richard, and I want him to have friends!"

"Yes, but I think Richard can make friends on his own. Besides, don't you think he would probably like to see you have more friends, too?"

"I don't need any friends," Marie-Eve declared. "Carole is the only friend I need!"

Christine smiled sadly. Carole was the name Marie-Eve had given to the church organ.

"Mama, can't we get a piano of our own?" Marie-Eve begged as though she were asking for a puppy. "I promise I'd take good care of it and practice everyday!"

"Pianos are expensive!" Christine's tone grew harsh. "Besides, you should concentrate more on your studies and stop entertaining these silly thoughts about becoming a musician. A pretty girl like you could marry young and bring up a family. Playing silly operas will never buy your daily bread!"

Marie-Eve slumped back and crossed her arms. "Sometimes I think this place would be cheerier if only there was a little music around…"

Christine bit her lip. She knew Marie-Eve was right. How Christine missed music… missed singing… but, no. She could not ever let Marie-Eve be drawn into that world. Christine nearly lost everything dear to her through music. She was not going to let her daughter follow her down _that_ path!

"I'll see you in the morning, mon ange," Christine said, effectively ending the discussion. She stood up to leave.

"Have you ever heard him?" Marie-Eve asked suddenly.

Christine furrowed her brow. "Heard who?"

Marie-Eve hesitated, seemingly embarrassed by what she was going to say next. "Have you ever heard… the Angel of Music singing songs in your head?"

Christine swayed… It couldn't be!

"Marie-Eve, stop being silly!" Christine snapped. "There is no Angel of Music! It's all just a childish dream!"

Christine left the room in tears, realizing that there were some things that neither time, nor distance, could ever erase.

XxXxX


	2. The Escape

**OK, here's your new chappie. Please review it!**

**BTW, this story is more based on the musical, but I have thrown in some aspects from the book. However, I haven't _read_ the whole book yet, so if some info's inaccuarate, please don't flame me...**

**I know Erik might have been acting a little out of character in that last chappie, but I promise he isn't going to do anything else _that_ bad!**

**Oh, and there will be no sex in this fic. Sorry, guys. I refuse to ruin a good fic by making it all sex and fondling. What you got in that last chappie is all you're gonna get! Try not to be too disappointed...**

**On that note, new chappie!**

XxXxX

He watched them from the window. Christine stood there, mercilessly crushing the poor child's dreams. Hypocrite! Christine once shared those dreams. She should know! She should know how important music was to that child.

He moved to the far side of the house and peered inside the sitting room window. Christine was pacing around the room nervously. He noted how old she appeared. Her monotonous life had drained her. That lovely face that had once entranced him was now pale and drawn. Very sad.

Raoul entered the room. He noted that the former Vicomte was looking rather haggard too, much to his amusement. The handsome man now owned several grey hairs, and a few creases around the corners of his eyes. Of course, _he_ really wasn't one to laugh. His own ebony hair had its fair share of silver streaks as well. And his face… well, it had known _better_ days.

He watched as Raoul put a comforting arm around Christine's shoulders, concern etched on his face. He heard muffled voices through the closed window. Christine sounded distressed. Raoul took her hand and led her away to their bedroom, pausing first to turn out the lamp, and then the house was dark.

The stranger stole around to Marie-Eve's window again and crouched in the bushes. He glanced down at the object he held in his hand. A single red rose. A gift he had brought for Marie-Eve.

Christine and her family had no idea that Erik had been stalking them for all these years. He had watched her from a hidden place when she went into the church on her wedding day. He saw her come out with Raoul, her new husband. He followed them to this small town, where they lived out their own masquerade – none of their neighbours would ever guess that this simple couple were once a nobleman and an opera star.

Then he saw her tummy start to grow. And it was impossible to fail to notice that Marie-Eve was born exactly nine months after… after what he did…

Erik saw a reflection of himself as Marie-Eve grew up. She was like him in every way. He knew that it must be. He knew that Marie-Eve was _his_ child. _Not_ the Vicomte's. _His_!

Erik lifted Marie-Eve's window a crack and peered in. She was lying on her bed with her back to him. Ever since she was young, this had been Erik's routine… to crawl up to her window… and sing to her. He never failed to this, not even once. He almost felt it was his obligation as her rightful father to do so. After all, Christine would never sing lullabies to Marie-Eve. Not even when she was a crying babe in arms…

"_Hush-a-bye_,_ mon ange_," he sang. "_You_'_ll be alright_._ Hush-a-bye_,_ mon ange_,_ sleep through the night_…"

Suddenly, Marie-Eve sat right up in bed. Erik stopped singing immediately. She had never done this before. Normally, she allowed his voice to lull her to sleep. But now she was wide-awake.

"Angel of Music?" she ventured softly. "Please, let me go with you! Let me go to your world of unending song! I can't stay here anymore!"

Erik's heart swelled. She wanted to go with him! She wanted to _be_ with him! But he had to consider… even after all these years, Christine would know that it was he who had taken Marie-Eve. No doubt she would call upon the entire French army to track him down and retrieve her…

But looking at the desperate expression on the child's face, he knew he couldn't leave her. Not in this silent, musicless world where she was rejected and shunned. She had to come with him.

They had to go back to Paris…

Erik gently set the rose down on the windowsill and silently lifted the window the rest of the way. Marie-Eve turned and stared at him in awe.

"_Flatteuse enfant_, _tu sauras tout_," he sang softly. "_Vois_, _c_'_est dans l_'_ombre que j_'_erre_. _Dans le miroir_, _contemple_-_toi_… _Je suis là_, _derrière_!"

Marie-Eve didn't move. She simply stared.

"_Je suis ton Ange de Musique_," he continued, enticingly. "_Suis-moi_, _mon Ange de Musique_…"

He held up his hands, gesturing for her to come closer to him. Marie-Eve moved slowly towards the window. Erik continued to sing, his voice becoming more and more hypnotic.

"_I am your Angel of Music_._ Come to me_,_ Angel of Music_."

At last, Marie-Eve was within arms' reach. He reached in and lifted her out through the window. Fortunately, she was small like her mother, and was practically weightless in his arms.

He hurried with her to the edge of the property where he kept a black stallion tied up. Swiftly, he hoisted himself into the saddle and placed her in front of him. He urged the horse with his heels and soon the small cottage dwindled in the distance.

He took them to the edge of town, to his own cottage, where he had lived for the past ten years. They couldn't stay here anymore. He grabbed some provisions for their trip, some money, and a blanket, which he wrapped around Marie-Eve's shoulders. After this quick stop, they were off again. Back to Paris…

Back to the Opera Populaire.

XxXxX

**Just in case you guys didn't catch that, Erik was singing "Angel of Music" in French.**

**Please review!**

**'K I'm done!**


	3. The Lair

**Thank you Random Day for reviewing. You are officially my favourite person right now.**

**As for the rest of you... Throw me a freakin' bone:) Please review, please? I don't care if you want to tell me I suck... Well, constructive critism would be preferred, since this is only my second fic, but right now I'll take what I can get!**

**Anyway, here's your new chappie.**

XxXxX

Christine was up at dawn the next morning. She made breakfast for Raoul and Richard and worked away at mending for a little while. She sighed unhappily and stared out the window, out at the fresh, free landscape.

"This was not the kind of life I had planned on," Christine said to herself.

She noticed it was getting late and Marie-Eve still wasn't up.

"Troublesome child," she muttered. She flew to Marie-Eve's door and flung it open.

"Child, you will be late for school!" Christine declared. But she noticed that the room was empty. The bed was unmade, and the window stood wide open. Christine frowned and moved across the room to shutit, when something laying on the sill caught her eye.

A single red rose, tied with a black ribbon.

"Raoul!" Christine screamed.

Raoul came running. "What is it? What's wrong, Christine?"

Christine collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Unable to speak, she merely pointed at the rose laying innocently on the sill.

Raoul's eyes grew wide. "_Where is she_?" he demanded. "_Where is Marie_-_Eve_?"

"I… I… d-don't know!" Christine wailed.

"Oh, mon Dieu!" Raoul cried. "It can't be!"

"_What will we do_?"

Raoul was already halfway to the door. "We must inform the police!"

XxXxX

Erik had not been beneath the Opera Populaire in over ten years. He lifted Marie-Eve into the boat to cross the underground lake. Back to his old home…

Marie-Eve had slept most of the ride there. When they were close to the Opera, Erik stopped to sell his stallion for far less than what he was worth. Then it was down through the secret entrance, back to the lake…

Only Marie-Eve was awake now, and she was becoming less and less cooperative.

"What is this place? Where are you taking me?"

"Hush, child," Erik hissed. He didn't have time for this.

"I want to know where you're taking me! Either you tell me, or I'll scream!"

Erik was tempted to tell her to scream all she liked, no one would hear her down here. But he knew that if he wanted her to come with him willingly, he had to let her believe that she was in control. So he gave in.

"I'm taking you to my old home. I have not been here in many years."

"This is an odd sort of place to live in," Marie-Eve declared, taking in the massive stone carvings that loomed over them on both sides of the lake. "Does anyone else live here?"

"No."

"How come?"

"Because I like my privacy."

"How come?"

"Because I _don_'_t_ like people!"

"How come?"

"Because people are deceitful and treacherous, and I don't trust them!"

"If you don't like people, why are you taking _me_ to your home?"

"Because…" Erik hesitated. "Because I… l-like you?" He tensed, waiting for her to reject him. After all, any other person would have. Who would want his affections?

But Marie-Eve simply peered up at him, studying him intensely. "Who are you?"

"I am your Angel of Music," he replied, simply.

"How come you wear that mask?"

"Well… no one is allowed to see what an angel looks like, except…" he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth against the next word, "…God…"

"Oh… well, what does an angel look like?"

"Um… very handsome!"

"Really?"

"Yes… really…"

"So do all angels live in dark places all by themselves and dislike people and wear masks?"

Erik sighed heavily. "Well, I… suppose most of us do… the important ones do anyway… listen, you ask too many questions!" It was quite clear that he was getting frustrated.

Marie-Eve remained unperturbed. "What do I call you?"

"What?"

"What's your name? Surely even angels have names! What do I call you?"

"I don't know… how about Papa?" he suggested.

"But already have a Papa."

"Yes, but I…" Erik sighed. This was going badly. He couldn't tell her the truth. She would hate him if he did. "I hope that I might become like a father to you. I… I _want_ to be a father to you."

"Are angels allowed to be fathers?"

"Well… uh… only to… _special_ children and, uh… people who… you know… _need_ us to be a parent to them… do you understand?"

Marie-Eve mulled this over in her mind briefly. Then she nodded. "So it's Papa, then? Alright. How long will I stay with you?"

"As long as you wish, my child."

"Will there be music in your home?"

Erik smiled at her. "Always. And I will teach you. I will make your deepest desires come true. You have a rare gift, Marie-Eve…" How he relished speaking her name out loud! "…but you need a teacher to show you how to use it… That's why I have brought you here…"

"You will teach me?"

"I will."

"For nothing?"

"For nothing more than the pleasure of hearing you sing."

"So… so I could be a real prima donna?

"You can be anything!"

Marie-Eve was shaking with happiness. Tears of joy pricked at her eyes. "Oh, Papa! I don't know what to say!"

Erik's heart soared as he heard her utter that single word… Papa… she called him Papa! Her lovely face was lifted up to him, adoration sparkling in her beautiful little eyes. Erik suddenly understood every man he had ever seen who looked upon their daughters with pride and love, who doted upon them and gave into their every whim. At that moment, Erik was head-over-heels in love with Marie-Eve, and would have given her the world, if only he could…

At last they arrived at his lair. Everything was covered with a thick layer of dust. Marie-Eve immediately rushed to the organ and wiped the grime off of its ivory keys.

"Imagine!" she exclaimed. "An organ! Right in the home!"

Erik found an old matchbook and struck a match, lighting the dirty, grungy candelabras. Soon, the place was filled with light.

Although Marie-Eve was filled with wonder in this new world, she was not yet done interrogating Erik.

"How did you find me?"

"The Angel of Music always comes to the person who needs him the most." There. That sounded convincing.

"Did you know my parents?"

Erik hesitated. "No…"

She sat on the edge of the piano bench. "Why did you choose _me_?"

"Because your parents tried to keep you from music!" Erik replied, coldness creeping into his tone. "And that was wrong. That was _very_ wrong of them. Your mother should have never _ever_ tried to keep you from _music_!" He inhaled deeply, trying to control his anger, which was welling up in the pit of his stomach. "They… they don't deserve you! They could see that you were lonely and unhappy and they didn't _care_! They _never_ cared! And they probably don't care that you're _gone_, either!"

Erik immediately regretted that last sentence. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. He was just so angry. Christine knew Marie-Eve was _his_ and she kept her from music! How _could_ she?

Erik slowly raised his eyes to meet Marie-Eve's gaze. Those dark pools looked so sad. So very… dismayed…

"I… I guess I… knew all along they didn't like me," she said sadly. "I just thought… maybe when I was gone… they'd realize I was _there_."

Erik walked over to her and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I'm sorry, my child," he said quietly. "I didn't mean everything I said. I was just… upset… Everyone deserves the right to enjoy music… The Angel gets angry when people withhold that right from those who can't fend for themselves."

Marie-Eve looked at the floor. After awhile, she gazed up at him with an eager sparkle in her eyes.

"Can we… start my lessons now?" she asked hopefully.

Erik smiled, taking a seat beside her. "Of course."

As Erik's fingers swept the keyboard, Marie-Eve was swept away to a world of unending music…

XxXxX

**Just wait... It gets better!**

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	4. The Past

**Thank you Fleetyfillyhpchic for reviewing! Love your story, by the way. Keep writing!**

**Now, I'm on my hands and knees... Please review! Wow, I guess it's when an author has to beg her readers for feedback. Sorry if it's boring right now, but it picks up.**

**As a matter of fact, it picks up in _this_ chapter. So please, please, please tell me what you think!**

**Enjoy!**

XxXxX

Inspector Lachappelle steepled his fingers. He looked sympathetically at the grieving parents sitting in front of his desk.

"I'll send out a search party to investigate the town and the woods and down by the river," he told them. "I'm sorry, that's really the best we can do."

Christine sobbed in Raoul's arms. "We understand, sir…" she wept.

"This man you believe took her. What did you say his name was again? Alec?"

"Erik," Raoul corrected.

"No last name?"

"None that we know of."

"Assuming this _Erik_ did kidnap your daughter, do you know of any place they might have gone?"

Christine sniffled. "He has a home is Paris. They might have gone there."

Lachappelle whistled. "Paris is a long way off. And it's a pretty big city, too. Any place in specific?"

Christine looked up at Raoul, pleadingly. He shook his head, ever so slightly.

"We don't know."

Lachappelle nodded and stood up. "If the man can be found, we'll find him. However, you did mention that she seemed unhappy at school. You know how children can be. Perhaps she ran away on her own, in which case I can almost guarantee that she will come back in a day or two."

"Of course," Raoul said. "We thank you for your patience, sir. You have been a great help at this most… _difficult_ time."

Lachappelle moved to the door and held it open for them. "Au revoir, Monsieur… Madame…"

"Au revoir," Raoul replied as he led Christine out to their wagon. Once they were in the wagon, Christine turned on Raoul.

"_Why didn_'_t you tell him_? You know Erik would have taken her back to the Opera Populaire! _Why didn_'_t you make him send his men there_?"

Raoul gritted his teeth. "If we told him that much, the rest of the truth would have come out… The truth about who _we_ really are! We have spent over ten years trying to escape that past! I wasn't about to ruin all of that!"

"I don't care! I want her back! I want our child back!"

"Don't you mean _your_ child? Or do you not know _why_ Erik took her? Do you not know that… that…" Raoul broke down. "…That that monster is Marie-Eve's _real_ father? Oh, Christine! Why? Why? Why did you do it? With that… that _animal_?"

Christine wept bitterly. "I didn't want to. Raoul, he made me do it! I begged him to stop. I was on the floor begging… but he wouldn't stop. He _couldn_'_t_ stop!"

Raoul held her tightly. "Why didn't you tell me? After all these years, why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to hurt you," Christine whispered. "Oh, Raoul, he was so ashamed! He's a like a child. He couldn't know the consequences of his actions. He… he just… he just wanted to be loved…"

Raoul sighed. "Don't get me wrong. I pity the poor creature. But I simply cannot condone his actions. He's guilty of the most heinous of crimes… murder, theft, stalking… and now kidnapping!"

"Raoul…" Christine whispered. "No matter what he's done, I know he won't hurt Marie-Eve."

"But in order to get her back, you know what we have to do…"

Christine nodded. "We have to go back to Paris…"

XxXxX

Erik was astonished at how quickly Marie-Eve was learning. She was like a little sponge, soaking up every bit of knowledge Erik provided to her. Her voice joined his in song now… There was not a lovelier duet in the rest of the world, Erik was certain.

"_La nuit_, _dans mon sommeil_," Marie-Eve sang. "_Se glisse un homme_. _Sa voix éclate en moi_, _sa voix me somme_. _Serait_-_ce_ _un rêve encore_, _mais cette fois_, _je sais que le Fantôme de l_'_Opera est là_, _en moi_."

Erik pulled her onto his lap as he sang. "_Ce soir_, _la scène est mise_. _Nos chants se mêlent_. _Ma main_, _mes mots_, _ma voix_, _je t_'_ensorcelle_. _Et si ton doux regard_, _se perd parfois_, _tu sais que le Fantôme de l_'_Opera est là_, _en toi_."

"_Ceux qui vous voient en face_, _sont pris d_'_effroi_," she returned. "_Je suis un masque pour vous_."

"_Je suis ta voix_."

Marie-Eve smiled as she snuggled up against his chest. She pulled his strong arms around her and rested her head against his shoulder. They were the very picture of a loving father and his daughter. Marie-Eve glanced up at him and began singing a new song. It was a song he had taught her much earlier, and she had liked it very much.

"_Née dans l_'_ombre_, _l_'_émotion de serre_. _Dans le noir_, _se jouent nos vraies chimères_. _Cède à la jouissance_, _si belle et sans défense_…" She smiled. "Sing with me, Papa!" she pleaded.

How could he say no? "_Sans bruit_, _la nuit_, _vient de te surprendre_. _La nuit t_'_instruit_, _trépidante et tendre_. _Quitte la lumiére_, _fais ton deuil du jour vulgaire_. _Oublie tout de son eclat cruel et froid_. _La nuit_, _vois-tu_, _ne chante que pour toi_."

Marie-Eve began singing again. "_Grâce à moi_, _tu sauras ce que ton âme exprime_. _Par moi seul_, _ouvre-toi à la parole_. _Que ma voix_, _te transporte loin du sol_, _et qu'au loin ton esprit s_'_élève puis vole_…"

"_Piano_, _piano_, _ma chanson va naître_," he sang as he pulled her close. "_Cède-lui_, _fais-lui_, _succomber ton être_. _Ose ouvrir ton cœur_, _laisse au loin tes moindres peurs_. _Ces ténèbres_, _on sait que nul ne les combat_, _ténèbres qui ne chantent que pour toi_."

"_Laisse-moi te confier la clé d_'_un autre monde_. _Laisse au loin ce qui fait ta vie là-haut_. _Livre-toi aux puissances de la nuit_. _Promets-moi que tu paieras ce prix_." She had hit every note perfectly.

Erik hesitated, then dared to reach up and push a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, allowing his finger to caress her cheek as he did so. She smiled at the contact. Erik decided to push his luck and ran his fingers through her hair. Marie-Eve did not protest.

"Papa?" she whispered. "Finish the song? Please?"

He complied. "_Flotte et flâne au fil de mes caresses_. _Touche-moi_, _donne-moi_, _jusqu_'_à_ _ton ivresse_. _Que la nuit culmine_, _que ton être obscur s_'_incline_ _face aux notes que ma muse impose à moi_, _ces notes qui ne chantent qui pour toi_…" He glanced down at her. Steeling his nerve, he leaned down and planted a kiss on her forehead. The feel of her warm skin against his lips sent a shudder through his body. She peeked up at him with smiling eyes.

He had kissed Marie-Eve.

He had kissed his _daughter_.

And she simply smiled. She did not scorn him, did not run, did not scream, did not cry, did not draw back in disgust… That's what anyone else would have done. No one could ever want the love of a monster.

But he was no monster to her… He was the Angel of Music… And she loved him… She called him Papa…

"_Dans ma nuit j_'_ai attendu ta voix_… _Désormais ne chante que pour moi_…"

Suddenly, Marie-Eve's stomach growled loudly.

Erik suddenly realized that she hadn't eaten since she came here. He glanced at the clock. They had been singing together for hours! And yet, it felt as though it had only been a short while since he began teaching her.

"Are you hungry child?" Erik asked, noticing for the first time that he was famished.

Marie-Eve nodded. "Yes… I didn't even notice it until now!"

Erik got up from his place at the organ. There was a little bit of food left from the trip, but not much. Erik took the money he had made from selling the stallion and headed for the boat.

"I am going to the surface to buy some food," he informed her. "I will be back shortly…"

Erik turned and stepped gracefully into the boat, pushing away and leaving Marie-Eve behind. He glanced over his shoulder to where she still stood at the shore. Even before she was out of his sight, he began worrying for her. What if she felt ill while he was gone and he wasn't there to help her? What if she fell into the lake or hurt herself? What if she got lonely? What if she changed her mind and decided to leave while he was gone? What if someone came and found her and he wasn't there to stop them?

Erik shook his head. Was this what it felt like to be a father? A constant flow of "what ifs?"

Erik reprimanded himself for being overprotective and continued his journey to the surface. She was ten years old! Nothing would happen to her in the twenty minutes it would take for him to buy supper!

Erik reached the surface and made his way towards the market, keeping to the back-alleys and staying in the shadows. He thought about the time he had spent with Marie-Eve. It was more enjoyable than he could have ever imagined. Marie-Eve adored him! And yet, a nagging concern tugged at his heart.

What if his daughter was just like her mother? What if she decided that she wanted to _know_ her angel? What if she became curious as to what lay beyond the mask? What if she, just like her mother, unmasked him and unveiled the monster beneath?

Damned "what-ifs!"

What would happen when Marie-Eve found out that he was no angel? Would she still love him? Would she still want to stay?

He knew he couldn't lie to her forever. He had to tell her the truth. And the sooner he did, the better.

Erik came to a decision. He would tell her the truth as soon as he got back. She may hate him, likely. She may want to leave him, true. But he had to respect her enough to tell her. She had the right to know.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted when a sharp blow to the back of his head knocked him off of his feet. Facedown in the dust, he became acutely aware that several men were surrounding him.

"Well, boys," a familiar voice said loudly. "Let's have a look-see!"

That voice… No! Why? Why now? After all these years!

A hand reached down and roughly turned Erik over onto his back. Then, to his horror, someone reached down and tore his mask away from his face. Erik reach up and tried to cover his bared visage, but it was impossible to hide his badly deformed features. He heard moans of disgust from the men surrounding him.

"You were right, Babet!" the same voice declared happily. "It's the Devil's Child, it is! How do you do, Derek?"

Erik's eyes focussed and stared into the face of a man whom he remembered from what seemed like a lifetime ago. A face he had grown up with…

"The name is _Erik_…" he informed the man coldly. "Monsieur Boisvert…"

Monsieur Boisvert. This was the man who had once exploited Erik. Years ago… Erik had been locked up in a cage like an animal… Forced to perform for a paying audience, beaten mercilessly… All a part of Boisvert's travelling fair… Gypsies… Javert had often been mistaken for Erik's master… No… Javert was nothing more than his _keeper_… Boisvert's assistant. Although Javert liked to beat Erik on many occasions, Boisvert was the one he truly feared. And oh, how he wished that it were Boisvert that he had killed _instead_ of Javert! As a child, he was certain that the man was evil personified. Now, as a man, he still had his suspicions…

Erik had escaped the Hell that was Boisvert's fair. He couldn't have gotten away sooner. He had forgotten the man completely, until now…

Boisvert smiled a horrible smile and Erik saw that the man had lost a few teeth since they last saw each other. He struck Erik across the face with his cane, drawing blood.

"I lost a lot of money when you took off," Boisvert informed him. "You were my star attraction."

"Forgive me for feeling no sympathy!" Erik growled. One of the other men dealt him a sharp kick in the ribs, leaving Erik clutching his side as he bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to cry out.

Boisvert crouched down beside him. "I hear you've been a bad boy since we last saw each other," Boisvert spoke as though Erik were merely a child.

And with each passing moment, Erik was beginning to _feel_ more and more like a child – the child he had been so many years ago when this man owned his freedom.

"What's this about a ghost that haunted the Opera Populaire?" Boisvert asked, holding up an old newspaper clipping. "Eye-witnesses say he wore a mask. One late Joseph Buquet said he was hideously deformed. Sounds a lot like you…" Boisvert folded up the clipping and put it back in his coat pocket. "Monsieur Buquet was allegedly murdered by this Phantom… Later, a Signor Piangi died at his hands… My, but you've seemed to develop a certain taste for blood! Did killing Javert incite some wicked hunger in you?"

"Go to Hell!" Erik shouted at him.

"Go to Hell?" Boisvert laughed. "I suppose I'll meet _you_ there… _Murderer_!"

"Stop it!"

"You know what else I've heard?" Boisvert grinned. "I've heard that some girl who lives in a small town outside the city has been kidnapped. Her parents say she was taken by a man from Paris named 'Erik'. No last name! The police are crawling all over looking for the girl and her abductor!" Boisvert leaned in close. "I don't know where the girl is… but I'm quite certain I've found the one who took her!"

"What do you want from me?" Erik's voice sounded so small… so much like a child's.

"There's a big price on your head," Boisvert informed him. "I could turn you over to the police right now and receive a handsome reward… But I have an idea that I think will be profitable for us both. I'll take you back to my fair and keep you safe from the police, while in the process make a daily profit off of your talent… and your _face_." Boisvert smiled. "What say you to that?"

Erik swore loudly at him in Persian. Boisvert laughed. "I knew you'd agree!"

The other men descended on Erik like a pack of vultures. They punched and kicked and beat him down. Erik fought for his life, but there were too many of them. One man picked up a stone a slammed it into Erik's skull.

Erik fell back, barely conscious. His arms and legs were bound and he was flung onto the back of a horse. Before he lost consciousness completely, he heard Boisvert laugh to the other men. "The people of Paris paid well to see the Devil's Child! I wonder how much more they'll pay to see the city's own Phantom of the Opera!"

"Marie-Eve…" Erik whispered. Then his world went black.

XxXxX

**Oh, the horror! Just remember, this fic is based mostly upon the musical. I've just added a few aspects from the book, which will probably be inacurate, but that's OK 'cause it's my story and I have the ultimate power! Muhahahaha!**

**Just in case you guys were wondering, Erik and Marie-Eve were singing "Phantom of the Opera" and "Music of the Night" in French. Man, I love the fact the new movie DVD includes French subtitles! Yay!**

**Oh, and just a friendly reminder... Review or else I'll get my buddy Erik and we'll go Victorian on yo' hiney!**

**Remember... any female who reviews gets five minutes alone with Erik in a dark closet... Muhahahahaha!**


	5. The Phantom of the Opera

**YAY! I'm starting to get some feedback! This is great! I luv all of you!**

**Paige Turner3: You are forgiven for not reviewing earlier :) I'm glad you like the story, and I'm glad you like Marie-Eve. I've kind of based her character on my eldest niece, since they're about the same age. Thanks for your encouragement, it's really appreciated!**

**Inuyasha-gal-97: Thanks for reviewing. I hope you like the story so far. Erik sends his thanks!**

**Dahna: I'm glad you like the story. I'll try to add the translations to those French songs to one of my author's notes, hopefully in the near future. I'll remember to post the translations to any future French songs that will appear in later chapters. Oh, sorry, you can't have your five minutes with Erik right now... He's busy with Inuyasha-gal-97... Try back later...**

XxXxX

Christine and Raoul reached the city late in the afternoon. Richard had been sent to live at their neighbour's house until they returned. They rode their horses into the streets of Paris, which were rather empty as most people had already retreated to their homes for dinner.

"I still think you should have let _me_ go alone," Raoul said to her.

Christine shook her head. "This whole mess is my fault. I have to be with you. I'm the only one Erik will listen to…" She suddenly stopped. "What's that?" she pointed at something small and white on the ground.

Raoul dismounted and picked up the object. His eyes grew wide and the colour drained from his face as he held it out to her.

"Erik's mask!" Christine cried. Then she noticed something else. Hoof prints in the mud.

"Let's follow them!" Christine said as she spurred her horse, barely giving Raoul a chance to mount his steed again.

They travelled as fast as their horses would go, beyond the city limits.

"Do you really think they came this far?" Raoul called to Christine.

"They must have!" she answered. "Look! Over there!"

Raoul dismounted again to pick up another object lying on the ground. A piece of black cloth.

"It's from Erik's cloak!" Christine said.

"It's been torn," Raoul said, inspecting it. "And… there's… there's blood on it…"

Christine's stomach twisted into a knot. "He wouldn't have hurt her… I know… he wouldn't… not intentionally… he wouldn't have hurt her…"

"Let's go!" Raoul said. "He must have gone this way!"

They travelled a few more miles, following the trail, when suddenly a light, swinging tune reached their ears.

"Do you hear that?" she asked. She dismounted and tied her horse to a tree. Raoul followed suit. They were in a small town just outside the city. And the streets were rather empty.

Raoul and Christine walked down the dusty road, following the sound of the music. They reached the top of a hill and stopped. Before them they saw tents and vendors, the whole area bustling with activity.

"Looks like the fair's come to town," Raoul commented.

"Let's go," Christine said, tugging urgently on his sleeve. "Maybe someone down there has seen Marie-Eve!"

Raoul and Christine entered the fairground just as a large man in a red suit stood up on a tall wooden box. He wore shiny black boots, had a bushy grey moustache, and in one hand he held a cane with a silver skull on the end of it. A gypsy, obviously.

"Mesdames and messieurs!" he called loudly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Robert Boisvert! I bid you welcome to our fair!"

Raoul laughed under his breath. "Is this guy for real?" he said to Christine.

"Mesdames and messieurs!" Boisvert continued, sweeping an arm around to point at the tent behind him. "Behind this tent, I will show you a horror beyond your imagination! Some of you may recall that Paris, your neighbour, has been haunted! In the grand Opera Populaire, the people have been stalked by a terrorist of the worst kind… a Phantom!"

Christine gasped and clutched Raoul's arm. What was going on?

"He's killed men… Terrorized the patrons of the great opera house… He's committed crimes to horrible for me to relate to you! I went to the Opera Populaire myself! I found this Phantom. But I discovered that he was no ghost… He was a demon! A demon so evil that Hell itself could not hold him! I captured him, and now you yourselves may enter and behold the hideous monster! Have no fear… He cannot harm you whilst I am here!" He gestured grandly. "Only ten francs! I beacon you… Come inside and behold the Phantom of the Opera!"

The crowd surged forward, money in hand, each of them eager to poke their head inside and see the monstrosity.

Christine turned to Raoul. "What will we do?"

Raoul put his arms around her. "Let's wait until nightfall, when everyone's gone. We'll come back then… and we'll see if it's really him…"

Christine nodded. "Until nightfall…"

XxXxX

Marie-Eve sat huddled by the lakeshore. She looked around. Without her Angel there, this strange underground world was so sinister-looking… So frightening…

Marie-Eve hugged her knees to her chest and gazed out across the water, hoping to see Papa come back on his boat.

Surely he hadn't forgotten her? Marie-Eve's empty stomach protested loudly. She was starving. He said he would be back soon. How long had she been waiting? Hours? Days?

She had lost all sense of time in this land of night…

Surely he wasn't hurt? Lost? No, of course not! Angels don't get hurt. Wherever he was, she was certain he was safe.

Marie-Eve shivered. It had grown cold. Her little fingers clutched her arms, trying to keep warm.

PerhapsPapa was needed elsewhere. Perhaps he had gone to help another child, somewhere.

He would be back… She was sure…

She just had to wait…

XxXxX

The town grew dark. The people had mostly retired to their beds. From their perch on the hill, Raoul and Christine could see that the fairgrounds were almost entirely deserted.

"It's now or never," Raoul whispered.

"I have to go alone," Christine told him. "There will be less chance of us getting caught if I go alone. Erik will speak with me… I know he will…"

"Christine," Raoul said. "I don't like this…"

"There is no other way…"

Raoul sighed. "Be careful."

"I will," she said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. She raced down to the fairgrounds. She ducked behind a tent and peeked out. The grounds were empty. Everyone was asleep.

Suddenly, Christine heard Boisvert's awful laughter from inside the tent.

"Two thousand!" Boisvert cried. "Two thousand in just one day! That beast is a gold mine!"

"But what about that price on his head?" another man said. "If the police begin to suspect…"

"Aw, Babet, no one's gonna come sniffing… They think he's still in Paris!"

"What about the girl he's supposed to have taken?"

"She wasn't with him when we found him so she's not my problem!"

Anger burned in Christine's heart. She stole around the tent and snuck over to the tent that held the supposed Phantom of the Opera.

Christine paused before the entrance. She was afraid… Afraid of confronting him after all these years… Afraid of gazing into those haunted eyes once again… It had been years since she'd laid eyes on him… Years since she had heard his voice… Would he still hold that strange and awesome power over her? Would she crumble when she saw him, her mind growing weak and her resistance fading?

Did she still belong to him?

Christine steeled her nerve and pulled her shawl up over her head to shadow her features. Taking a deep breath, she plunged into the darkness of the tent.

XxXxX

**Alrighty, then! Just so you know, I won't be able to update again until Friday, because I'm going camping and. obviously, I can't take my PC with me. I imagine this upsets a few of you, seeing as I have kind of left you with a bit of a cliffhanger. Don't worry! Time will pass swiftly in anticipation!**

**But I expect my e-mail to be full of review-alerts when I get back...**

**C'mon ladies! Erik needs someone to share that dark closet with!**

**See you all Friday!**


	6. The Meeting

**Well, I'm back! My camping trip was awesome! Did you miss me?**

**Dahna: OK, I guess Erik could squeeze you in... He's having quite a party in that closet right now! ;)**

**Tadriendra of Mirkwood: _Ten_ minutes? Well, I guess I can accomodate my favourite spell-checker! Or rather Erik can... ;) Awesome to hear from you again!**

**Kodukadvakch: Hey, thanks! Glad you like it! Keep reviewing, I'll keep updating!**

**Sugar Peaches: Awww, you really like it that much? Sorry about the cliff-hanger, but at least I left you guys wanting more!**

**Em: OK, just because you're so complementary, I'm kicking everyone out of the closet so you can get your five minutes with Erik right now! Geez, I'm starting to feel like his secretary! I'll check out that story, Shiver, as well when I'm done here...**

**XoAnGeL-Of ThE-NiGhToX: Yes! I have an obediant reader! Alright! Sorry about the wait, hope this chappie doesn't disappoint you!**

**On with it, then!**

XxXxX

A single lamp pierced the darkness of the tent. Erik lay on his side with his back to Christine. She saw his shoulders shaking, and every so often a small choking noise escaped his body.

He was crying…

She noted the angry red welts and gashes on his bare back. She slowly approached the cage.

Erik was muttering something to himself, oblivious to Christine's presence. She heard him mention Marie-Eve's name.

"Erik?"

Erik sat up quickly. He turned to look at her.

Christine gasped. Erik's mask was gone, his deformed features exposed. His face was purple and swelling from the bruises he had sustained. His chest was scratched up and as bruised as his face. There were also little cuts and bruises on his arms and legs.

Age and years of loneliness had made Erik's already distorted face paler and rougher than she remembered it. He was thinner… His skin was stretched tight across his ribcage. His ebony hair was now home to few silver streaks. Dark stubble on his face stood out against his pale skin… He had not been given the opportunity to wash or shave in quite some time, it appeared. There were dark circles under his eyes, making them look sunken in and contributing to the ugliness of his poor face. He looked so haggard. Though he was still rather young, not yet fifty, his sad eyes held the appearance of one who had seen the worst of life… One who was so tired… One who was prepared to lie down and sleep and never wake up…

Christine immediately started to weep.

Erik shook his head and began talking to himself again. "Women screaming… Children crying… No music left… None! Marie-Eve? I promised you I'd be back… I'm so sorry, mon Ange de Musique…" Then he began to sing. "_Hush-a-bye mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_…"

Erik's words soothed Christine. His voice was as soft and as gentle as she remembered.

Erik rocked back and forth, singing to himself. He closed his eyes. His mood suddenly changed. Christine realized that he was lost in a memory…

"_In all your fantasies_," he sang to himself,"_you always knew that man and mystery_–"

"_Were both in you_!" Christine cut in. Erik froze and stared at her.

"_And in this labyrinth where night is blind_," she continued, "_the Phantom of the Opera is here inside my mind_!"

Christine gave a small cough. She had not sung in over ten years. Not since she had left Erik… How good it felt! What joy it brought her to be singing again!

Erik peered at her through the darkness.

"…Christine?"

Christine removed her shawl. Erik covered his face with his hands.

"Please, don't look at me!"

Christine reached through the bars of his cage and pulled his hands from his face. "Erik? Please…"

His eyes were so full of shame. It reminded her of the night Marie-Eve was conceived. He pressed his hand against her cheek. "Oh, my Christine… My beautiful Christine…" he said sadly. "I have hurt you. I'm always hurting you."

"Where is my daughter?" she asked, desperately.

"Marie-Eve…" Erik whispered. "She must be so scared."

"_Where is she_?" Christine demanded.

Erik looked into her eyes. "Beneath the opera house. You know the way."

Christine nodded. "You don't know how much this means to me." She paused. "We could… We could tell the police about what that terrible man has done to you… We could get you out of here…"

"Boisvert _knows_," Erik said, staring at the floor. "He knows what I've done… About the murders… About Marie-Eve…" He met her gaze. "If you tell the police what you know about him, he'll retaliate by telling the police what _he_ knows about _me_! And then my life is over…"

"But… But, Erik… There must be another way…"

"There is no other way!" he said harshly. Then he sighed. "I should just face it… I was meant to end my days this way… Locked up, like the animal I am… Not that I deserve anything less."

She gazed at him. "You're not an animal, Erik. You're a _man_."

Erik looked at her, then he reached through the bars of his cage and took her hand. "Please," he begged. "Don't tell her. Don't tell Marie-Eve the truth about me. Let her remember me as the angel she always thought I was. Not like this. Tell her anything! Tell her the Angel had to go away. Just don't tell her the truth. Please…"

Christine nodded. "I promise…"

Erik gave her hand a small squeeze, then raised it to his face and planted a small kiss on the back of it. He looked at her once more before letting her hand drop.

"Now go quickly. Your daughter is waiting."

Christine fled the fairgrounds with tears in her eyes. Erik wasn't a child anymore, she realized.

He really was a father…

XxXxX

Marie-Eve was curled up beside the organ.

Papa said he would be back soon…

He said he would be back soon…

She was so alone…

For the fist time since the Angel of Music had taken her from her home, Marie-Eve wished that her mother were there.

Then she heard a splashing noise from the lake. She smiled as she realized that it was the boat coming back.

"Papa! Papa! You're back!" she cried, running down to the shore to meet him. What she saw stopped her dead in her tracks. Christine and Raoul were leaving the boat.

"Mama? Papa? What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Marie-Eve!" Christine ran to her and hugged her.

"Mama, I'm so sorry! The Angel of Music brought me here. He's real, Mama! He's really real!"

"I know, mon ange," Christine whispered. "But it's time to go home now."

"But… the Angel! He'll be angry if he comes back and finds out that I left!"

Trying hard to ignore her protests, Raoul lifted Marie-Eve into the boat. The three of them crossed the lake again. They brought her to the surface where the horses where waiting.

"I can't go!" Marie-Eve wailed. "The Angel was teaching me to sing! He was going to make me a prima donna! He promised!"

"The Angel isn't coming back," Christine told her quietly.

"But he promised!"

"Come on," Raoul said, getting ready to help Marie-Eve into his horse's saddle. "It's time to go."

"No!" Marie-Eve yelled, running from his arms. She dashed away through the streets, turning down a side street and disappearing.

Raoul chased after her. "Marie-Eve!" But she was very fast. Raoul slowed and stopped, breathless. He had lost her in the maze of the city streets. His shoulders slumped. It was useless.

Christine caught up to him. "What will we do?"

But she knew as well as Raoul did that she could not make Marie-Eve do anything she didn't want to do. If the child didn't want to be found, she would not be found. Marie-Eve – wherever she was – was on her own.

XxXxX

**Alrighty, then! Plot bunnies are on the loose again, it seems...**

**Oh, I was asked to translate those two French songs that Marie-Eve and Erik were singing a couple chapters ago. The translator I used is kind of messed up, so I had to roughly figure out the lyrics between itand my grade nine Frenchknowledge, so any fluent speakers may find fault in some of the translations. But this is basically what theysaid...Here's the Phantom of the Opera:**

**ME: At night in my sleep, a man appears. His voice bursts in me, his voice summons me. This would bea dream still, but this time I know that the Phantom of Opera is there, in me.**

**E: Tonight, the scene is made. Our songs mix. My hand, my words, my voice, I bewitch you. And if your soft glance is lost sometimes, you know that the Phantom of Opera is there, in you.**

**ME: Those who see your face are filled with fear. I am a mask for you.**

**E: I am your voice.**

**And here's Music of the Night:**

**ME: Born in the shade, the emotion of nothingness. In the black, our true dreams are played. Yield to the pleasure... it's beautiful anddefenseless...**

**E: Without noise, the night comes to surprise you. The night informs you, vibrating and to tend. Leave the light, the mourning of the vulgar day. Forget its cruel and cold glare. The night, you see, sings only for you.**

**ME: Thanks to me, you will know what your heart expresses. By me only, it opens with the word. My voice, transports you far from the ground, andyour spirit rises farthen flies.**

**E: Softly, softly, my song will be born. Yield, make itsuccumb to your being. Dare to open your mind, leave far behind your small fears. This darkness, no one knows and cannot fight... this darkness which sings only for you.**

**ME: Let me show youthe key to another world. Leave far behindwhat makes your life up there. Deliver yourself to the powers of the night. Promiseme that you will pay this price.**

**E: Float and movewith the feel of my caresses. Touch me, give in tome, until you are intoxicated. The night culminates,your obscure being inclines itself with the notes which my muse imposes on me... these notes whichsing only for you... In my night I have awaited your voice... From now on it sings only for me...**

**Review, please! The closet's empty right now... Erik's starting to feel lonely... I guess _I_ get my five minutes then! (_Heads for the closet_).**

**Erik: Aaaauuuuggg! Not again! Someone review right now! Please!**


	7. The Angel of Music

**Only two reviews? Well, I guess Erik is going to be lonely in the closet tonight! Muhahahaha!**

**_Erik_: Oh,why me?**

**It's called fate, Erik...**

**Paige Turner3: Thanks for the compliments, and thanks for reviewing! You've spared Erik a few minutes of my... um... _attentions_... Muhahahaha!**

**_Erik_: Thank you!**

**Dahna: Glad you like the French songs. If you _really_ want to hear Erik sing in French, you actually can on the new Phantom of the Opera DVD. I don't know if you have that movie or if you have it on DVD, but if you do you can just go into _Languages_ and select French. The guy who sings French for the Phantom has a really sexy voice, though who can compare to Gerard Butler? Anyhoo... Fear not, I fully intend on completing this story (I'll let you in on a secret... I've already finished writing it! Hee hee) Hey, Erik! I think Dahna likes you!**

**_Erik_: Better her than you!**

**Oh, that was hardly complementary... You need to take a few lessons from some of my readers...**

**Well, here's your chapter! The most anticipated event since yesterday!**

**_Erik_: Someone review after this... please... I think I'm allergic to the authoress... (_Crawls into closet and curls up in the foetal position_).**

**P.S. - Yes, I'm aware of how I spelt "foetal". Or "fetal". It's how it's spelt in Canada. Yes, I'm Canadian. After this, Erik and I are going to have a game of hockey.**

**_Erik_: In your dreams, _eh_!**

**You know, French guys should never try to use "eh" in their dialogue. You don't say it right.**

**_Erik_: Go hail a beaver!**

**OK, I'm going to cut this author's note short... Enjoy this chapter while I give Erik a firm talking-to...**

XxXxX

Marie-Eve ran until she could run no more. Then she collapsed and cried until she could cry no more.

"Oh, Angel!" she wept, as the morning sun began to rise over Paris. "Angel of Music! Help me!"

But there was no angel there to comfort her. Only the cold wind passing through the streets responded to her cries.

Marie-Eve wandered aimlessly through the streets. It was still quite early, and no one was out. She felt so alone. She raised her head and looked forlornly down an old back-alley. The streets would soon be bustling with people, she knew. She didn't want to be around when they came out. They would all ask the universal question – "Hi little girl, where's your mama and papa?"

With a resigned sigh, she made her way down the alley. At least there were no vagrants or street vipers… She didn't want anything to do with _them_ either.

Marie-Eve found an old empty crate turned over on its side. She crawled inside and curled up.

"I suppose _this_ will be my home now," she said sadly. "I have nowhere else to go."

Marie-Eve buried her face in her hands and began to cry again. Why hadn't Papa come back? He was an Angel after all! Shouldn't he have been able to… _sense_ she was in trouble or something? Shouldn't he have known that she needed him?

Marie-Eve's quiet sobs flowed from her little body. She was so sorrowful and so lonely that she didn't even notice when two men drew close to her little hovel. She was oblivious to them until she was within one man's clutches.

"Hey, look at this!" the man holding her said to his companion. "Look what I found!"

"Let go of me!" Marie-Eve cried.

"What's your name, little girl?"

"Let go!"

"Aw… Didn't your mama teach you better manners than that?"

"Let me go! Angel! Help me! Help!"

"I think she's a runaway," the first man said to his friend. "Let's bring her back with us. The boss might think of a use for her!"

Marie-Eve found herself being flung onto the back of a horse. The men rode swiftly away. She had been gagged and her hands bound. Tears flowed down her face as she was whisked away to some place far from where she had been found. Some time later, Marie-Eve saw something in the distance.

Tents…

It looked like a fair…

There were many workers milling around, preparing for the arrival of their customers. By the dark colour of their skin, Marie-Eve guessed that they were gypsies.

Marie-Eve was hauled roughly off of the horse. The men who had taken her dragged her over to a large man in a red suit, who was currently barking orders at some poor worker.

"Hey, boss! Look at this!" one of the men cried to him.

The big man cast a dull glance at Marie-Eve. "Now, where did you get _that_ from?"

"She was alone on the streets… We thought you could use her…"

"The last thing I need is another stray!" the big man snapped. "Can she _do_ anything?"

The first man stuttered. "Uh… well, um…"

The large man rolled his eyes. "You brought her all the way here and you don't even know if she's _useful_?"

The second man spoke up. "She must be able to do _something_…" He looked down at Marie-Eve. He untied her hands and removed the gag, but kept a firm hold on her just in case she tried to run. "Well? Tell us, dear… Are you good at anything?"

"Well, uh…" Marie-Eve began nervously, her jaw aching a bit from the gag. "I… I was taking music lessons from a great teacher… He was teaching me to sing…"

"A great teacher, you say?" the large man said. "Who?"

"I… I don't know his name…"

The big man looked her up and down, sizing her up. "Well, come on then… Let's hear you sing…"

Marie-Eve took in a deep breath. She was afraid of these men. She had been taken against her will. But where else could she go?

"_Maybe if I stay here_," she thought, "_I could be taken care of_…_ At least they will let me sing_!"

She took a breath, standing with her feet apart and her shoulders back, just as Papa had taught her. Then she opened her mouth and a sweet melody poured out.

"_Passe le point de non_-_retour_. _Nos mains se cherchent_. _Le grand moment arrive_: _enfin l_'_étreinte_! _Passe les liens du cœur_, _de sang_. _Pourquoi te battre_? _Abandonne aux excès l_'_ultime enceinte_. _Vers quels enfer affluerons_-_nous_? _Parviendrons_-_nous jusqu_'_à sa porte_? _Quel grand brasier est là pour nous seuls_? _Passe le point de non_-_retour_. _Plus rien à craindre_. _Les sans triomphent et le cœur reste sourde au bord du point de non_-_retour_…"

Her voice rang clearly, so lovely that everyone within earshot stopped to listen.

It was a song that Papa said he had written. It was full of passion and longing. Marie-Eve sometimes thought the music sounded somewhat… regretful. As though Papa had written it for some long-lost love. She began to wonder if angels could fall in love.

When the last notes of the song rose and died way, the man in the red suit paused for a moment.

"What's your name?" he finally asked.

"Marie-Eve."

"Marie-Eve… You're just a child… But I've only heard one other person with a voice like yours!" He lowered his voice. "And believe me… So far I like _you_ more than I like _him_…" He beamed at her. "My name is Monsieur Robert Boisvert. I think I have just the place for you."

"Where?" Marie-Eve asked eagerly, her fears momentarily forgotten. "I'll do anything!"

"How would you like to be… _The Angel of Harmony_?"

Marie-Eve thought for a moment. "How about… _The Angel of Music_?"

Boisvert clapped his hands together. "Even better! You'll have your own tent. You'll perform in a cage… for your own safety of course. You get all kinds of characters at the fair. If we didn't take precautions, anyone could just whisk you away against your will!"

"_Sort of like how I ended up here_," Marie-Eve recalled silently.

"When do I start?" she asked.

"Today! Let me show you to your tent."

Boisvert led her across the grounds to a large tent in the centre of all the activity. He pulled her inside. The place was dimly lit… A few lanterns pierced the darkness of the room. There were two cages in there. One had a man inside, apparently asleep. His back was to them.

"You're in luck!" Boisvert informed her. "We have a spare cage!"

"Excuse me… who's that?" Marie-Eve asked, pointing to the man.

"Oh, don't worry about him. He's our Phantom of the Opera. A singer as well. Don't talk to him. He's known for random violent outbursts."

The Phantom opened one yellow eye. Feigning unconsciousness, he kept his back to the two, his sensitive ears clinging to the sweet voice of the little girl who had just entered his domain.

What was _she_ doing here?

Impossible! She should be at home with her family by now… How had this happened?

Boisvert helped Marie-Eve into the cage beside the Phantom's. He locked the padlock and stepped back.

"You'll be marvellous! I can see it now… the Angel and the Phantom!" Boisvert laughed to himself and walked out.

Marie-Eve sighed and sat down on the hard floor of her cage, suddenly feeling more alone than ever before.

"I hope you know that you just sold your soul…" came a voice from the other cage.

Marie-Eve jumped. "Wha… What do you mean?"

"Boisvert never keeps his promises. He'll exploit you, profit from you, and you'll get nothing in return."

"Well, if that's true, I could just leave."

The Phantom laughed. "That would be difficult, considering you just allowed him to lock you up!"

"Then I won't sing."

"If you disobey him, you will be punished," the Phantom said darkly. "I've already tried that!" He sat up with his back to her. In the dim light, she saw that his back was torn and bloody. Purple bruises peeked through dried blood.

"Who are you?" she whispered.

"I am called the Phantom of the Opera… Didn't you know?" he asked coldly.

"I know what Monsieur Boisvert _called_ you… But what is your _name_?"

The Phantom sighed. "At birth, I was given the name 'Erik.'"

Marie-Eve closed her eyes. His voice sounded so familiar, but she couldn't place him.

Erik, however, had recognized her immediately. How could Christine let Marie-Eve fall into the hands of one such as Boisvert?

He couldn't tell her who he was… No, that was out of the question… And he prayed to God that she wouldn't recognize him…

"Erik, why do you keep your back to me?" Marie-Eve asked.

"Because if you saw my face you would scream," he said sadly.

"I'm not afraid."

"You will be, my child."

"But it's just your face! What could be so bad about it?"

"I'm warning you, child…" Erik's short temper was wearing thin.

"It's only polite to _look_ at someone when they're speaking to you!"

"Listen, child!" Erik snapped, inadvertently turning to face her. "Enough people stare at me for hours each and every day! The last thing I need is –" Erik broke off, realizing what he just done.

Marie-Eve said absolutely nothing. She just stared. Erik was overcome by the torrent of emotions reflection back at him in those pretty little eyes… Surprise, awe, pity…

Fear.

Erik saw her shrink back, those little hands trembling. She was terrified…

Of _him_…

Erik groaned. His face was dreadful enough on a _good_ day. But his terrible deformities combined with the injuries on his face and the rest of his body made him appear so monstrous… Not even _Christine_ could gaze at him without weeping!

Erik had frightened his own daughter… And he had frightened her badly…

Breaking down, he turned away from her, sobbing. Would he ever see anything in those lovely eyes again besides fear?

Marie-Eve felt terrible. She couldn't help the way she had reacted. It was just… a shock…

"Please, Erik!" she begged. "Don't be upset! I was just… just…" Marie-Eve struggled to find the words that would make him feel better.

"Just afraid," Erik finished for her. "Or disgusted… Or appalled… That's all _anyone_ feels when they look at me!" Erik hid his face in his hands, feeling exceptionally wretched.

"No! I'm not afraid!" Marie-Eve protested. "Nor am I disgusted! You're not scary at all! You're just a man!"

Just a man? Erik wasn't sure how he should take that. As a compliment?

"I pray, child," Erik said miserably, "don't mock me."

"I'm _not_ mocking you!" Marie-Eve cried indignantly. "I'm being _honest_! You're a man, is all. You're not any scarier than any other man!"

Erik raised his face and dared to look into her eyes once more. Those eyes were pleading… begging him to forgive her. But there was no more fear left in them.

"Erik… Please?" she reached through the bars that separated their cages. Her little hand stretched as far as it would go. Erik hesitated, then slowly took her hand in his own. It felt so soft and warm. He felt a little embarrassed, knowing how rough and cold his own hand must have felt to her. But she did not pull away. She just smiled at him. They sat like that for a long time.

"Mesdames and messieurs!" Boisvert bellowed outside the tent.

"Here we go again," Erik muttered, releasing her hand. He looked at her. "I hate morning audiences… They're mostly rich people who have nothing better to do in the early hours. They think they're so much better than everyone else. Basically, the only reason they're here is so they can gossip about the odd things they've seen over afternoon tea. They can be rather rude. Especially the men!" Erik looked thoroughly disgusted by the very thought of rich folks poking their heads in and gawking at him.

Marie-Eve supposed that being locked up and stared at made him feel less than human. He, no doubt, despised these people and only wished to be left alone.

Who could blame him, really?

"Yesterday," Boisvert continued, "you came to see the monster! The demon! The Phantom of the Opera! The hideous creature with the voice of an angel!"

They could hear the crowd murmur with the memory of it. Marie-Eve hated the way Boisvert referred to Erik. No wonder the poor man hadn't wanted her to see him! To be born with such a terrible deformity – on the most visible part of his body, no less! – and to be mocked and exploited for it must have traumatized his pitiful soul… Why, after being called a demon each and every day, Marie-Eve supposed that Erik might have actually begun believing it himself!

"Today I introduce to you a new wonder! A _true_ angel! The Angel of Music! She has lost her wings and cannot return to Heaven. Such a lovely voice she has! She favoured me with a simple short aria this morning! Fifteen francs! See the monster from the pit of Hell and the angel who gives the gift of music! Be the first to see them both together for the first time in history!"

In seconds, paying customers swarmed the tent. Marie-Eve saw that Erik was correct – most of them looked well to-do. They drew back in disgust at the sight of Erik's face, but were drawn to the image of Marie-Eve. It was an odd contrast indeed. Marie-Eve's lovely face made Erik look even more fierce, while his rough features made her look so very delicate.

Boisvert appeared in the crowd. "Sing, my Angel!" he cried to Marie-Eve.

Marie-Eve gulped and opened her mouth. No words came out.

"Sing my Angel of Music!" Boisvert shrilled.

Marie-Eve was paralyzed with fear. She couldn't sing. The crowd began to respond angrily.

Then Erik crept up to the bars that separated their cages. "_Chante pour moi_…" he whispered.

Almost involuntarily, words shot out of Marie-Eve's mouth. "_Hush_-_a_-_bye_, _mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_._ Hush_-_a_-_bye_, _mon ange_._ Sleep through the night_._ Let me caress you_,_ let nighttime possess you_._ Hush_-_a_-_bye_,_ mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_. _Angels sing for you_,_ they come and implore you_, '_Don_'_t be afraid_,_ for you_'_ll be alright_.' _Hush_-_a_-_bye_,_ mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_._ I_'_m right here watching you through the night_…"

The crowd had been silent as she sang. Then a man near the front of the crowd called, "Bring the Angel out!"

That got a whole gang of men chanting, "Bring out the Angel! Bring her out!"

Boisvert smiled his horrible smile and began moving towards Marie-Eve's cage with the key to the padlock in his hand.

"Please, Monsieur," Marie-Eve said quietly, shrinking back. "Don't…"

"Is the Angel feeling shy?" Boisvert said loudly, making the whole crowd laugh. Then in a low voice, "You are mine now… And you'll do what I tell you!"

"Leave her alone!" Erik yelled, grasping the bars of his cage.

"Silence, monster!" Boisvert shouted at him. He inserted the key into the lock and opened the gate of Marie-Eve's cage. He grabbed her roughly by the wrist and threw her towards the men who had called for her.

The men descended on the young child like coyotes. Their hands were all over her. She screamed.

"Stop it!" Erik bellowed. "Leave her alone!"

At the sound of Erik's voice, many of the men did stop. But a few still kept a hold on the girl, feeling secure with the knowledge that Erik was locked up and couldn't touch them. One young man smiled darkly as he reached up Marie-Eve's dress.

"Enough!" Erik screamed, scaring some people so badly that they fled the tent in terror. Erik had a sudden flashback of that night ten years ago when he had been alone with Christine in her dressing room. He had forced himself upon her that night. What poetic justice it was that he now had to witness the same terrible crime against his own daughter… and he was helpless to stop it!

"Not this time!" Erik roared. With inhuman strength he ran at the gate to his cage, slamming his shoulder into it so hard that it buckled under the force. He stepped back and ran into it again. And again. Finally, the old padlock broke under his strength and the gate swung open.

Erik leapt to the ground and grabbed the throat of the man who had had his hands on Marie-Eve.

"How dare you touch her!" Erik growled. He tightened his grip on the man's neck, cutting off his air supply. Erik raised the man off the ground and held him in the air. His toes were suspended several feet off the floor as Erik began choking the life from him.

Boisvert was panicking. He swung his cane as hard as he could at the back of Erik's skull. Erik dropped like a stone, his grip on the other man's neck relaxing as he fell. The man choked, gasping for breath as he fled the grounds.

Boisvert had some damage control to do. He turned to what was left of his audience, forcing calm into his voice.

"The presentation will be cut short today," he said. "I sincerely apologize. This has just been a terrible… accident…"

XxXxX

**Cooleos! Erik kicks butt!**

**_Erik_: That'll teach 'em to mess around with my kid!**

**But you know Erik, if no one reviews this chapter, I get you all to myself in that dark closet!**

**_Erik_: Someone stop her... Please, stop her! (_Runs to his closet_) Review! Review! Review!**

**Oh, Erik, I'm starting to get the impression that you don't like me... That's not nice... Look, I'm pouting now...**

**_Erik_: You are insane!**

**Why, thank you! I'm so glad you noticed!**

**_Erik_: (_groans_) Someone review and spare me this living Hell!**

**Oh, and in case some of you are wondering, when Erik said "Chante pour moi" he was saying "Sing for me." And I know someone's going to ask this later so I'll answer it now... Marie-Eve was singing _Point of No Return_ in French. Here's the translation:**

**ME:Past the point of no return. Our hands are tied. The great moment has arrived: the pressure is on! Pass the bonds of mind and blood. Why resist? Give up the bonds of the enclosure. Towards which Hell will we flow? Will we arrive at the door? What large blazing inferno is there only for us? Past the point of no return. Nothing more to fear. Without triumph, the mind remains deaf at the edge of the point of no return...**

**Nice little song... You know, the French versions, once translated, have so many sexual undertones! Wierd!**

**Review please!**


	8. The Reunion

**Wow, eight reviews! I think Erik's a little tired...**

**_Erik_: Sugar Peaches brought popcorn!**

**Um... That sounds nice... OK, let's get this started!**

**Sugar Peaches: Erik liked the popcorn. Bring some more next time you review and maybe he'll let you stay in his closet for _more_ than five minutes... tee-hee!**

**Dahna: You're going to love POTO in French! And thanks for sticking up for me! Ha, hear that Erik? Dahna doesn't appreciate you being so mean to me!**

**_Erik_: (_pouts_) See if I ever share my popcorn with her again...**

**Paige Turner3: Thank you for the compliments! Erik appreciates the compliments that were directed at him...**

**_Erik_: I _so_ would Punjab Boisvert if I actually had a rope in that stupid cage! Hey, authoress! Can I have a rope?**

**Sorry, Erik...**

**Kodukadvakch: Hey, Erik, I think this girl likes you! Her entire review was spent cheering you on for nearly choking the life from a man...**

**_Erik_: Hmmm... Don't know if I want to share my closet with her... She sounds German to me...**

**Hey! I'm part German, too!**

**_Erik_: Really? Well, that explains a lot about you...**

**Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Hey, I got good grammer ;) Oh, where would I be without you?**

**_Erik_: Stuck wallowing in a pit of loathing and self-doubt?**

**Most likely. Hey, she has Legolas locked in her closet! We're sisters at heart! I know it!**

**_Erik_: Dear Lord, you're all insane...**

**_Legolas_: Actually, I quite enjoy myself.**

**_Erik_: You're _all_ insane!**

**phantomfreak258: What are you talking about? Erik never gets tired of me!**

**_Erik_: Please take me off her hands! Please!**

**Well, anyway... New chappie!**

XxXxX

When Erik woke up, it was dark outside. The back of his skull ached terribly. He sat up slowly. Blood rushed to his head, making him want to throw up. He sat still a moment, trying to compose himself. Then he noticed Marie-Eve in the corner, sitting in the shadows, watching him. That's when Erik realized that he was in Marie-Eve's cage.

"They haven't fixed yours, yet," she explained, looking away from him. "I'm sorry…"

Erik was confused. "Sorry for what?"

Her voice cracked. "It's my fault you got hurt!"

"Marie-Eve! How can you say that?"

"If only I hadn't run away from Mama and Papa! None of this would have happened!"

Erik moved closer to her. He touched her shadowed cheek. "Monsieur would have found some other excuse to beat me anyway."

He drew his hand back when he felt something wet on her cheek. In the dim light, he gasped at what he saw on his fingertips…

Blood.

Erik pulled her close to himself to examine her face. On one pale cheek was an angry red welt that was open and bleeding. Erik's hands gripped her shoulders tightly as he tried to force down the erupting cloud of anger that was building up in his chest.

"E-Erik…" Marie-Eve whimpered. "You're… you're hurting me…"

Erik forced his hands to relax, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. "Monsieur did this?"

Marie-Eve hung her head. Tears mingled with the blood on her cheek. "He said it was to teach me a lesson… He said it was my fault that you got hurt… He said he… he…"

"What is it, my child?" Erik asked, forcing gentleness into his tone. The anger sat like a festering lump in his heart. But he would not let his daughter see him lose his temper again.

Marie-Eve squeezed her eyes shut. Tears were flowing freely from her. Instinctively, Erik put his arms around her and held her close to his chest. One hand cradled her head against his shoulder as she continued to cry.

"Marie-Eve, what did he say to you?"

Marie-Eve took a gulping breath, fighting back her tears. "He… said that… that he was going to… let _you_ teach me a lesson…"

Erik's breath caught in his throat. "I… I don't understand…"

Marie-Eve wiped a tear from her face. Erik could feel her trembling against his bare chest.

The poor child was frightened! But why?

"He… he said that you would be mad at me… he said that you would punish me… he said that I would be lucky if you didn't _kill_ me…"

Erik's restraint was fading quickly. He forced himself to focus on the poor girl in his arms… Forget the anger… Forget it… Concentrate on the girl… Concentrate on Marie-Eve…

Marie-Eve continued to shake in his arms. Erik rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to soothe the poor child. He allowed his other hand to reach up and stroke her hair. His hand strayed to her tear-stained face and caressed her cheek. She only trembled harder.

"Marie-Eve… Please try to calm down," he said in an attempt to pacify her. "Be still. I'm not going to hurt you."

"P-pl-please... please, don't do it!"

"Marie-Eve… I don't understand your meaning…" He could feel her flinching away from his caresses now. Her small body was tensed up, as though she expected him to do something horrible to her.

Why was she so afraid?

Marie-Eve hid her face in his chest. He heard her murmur something against his skin.

"I can't hear you, child," he said, tilting her face up with his fingertips. "What did you say?"

"M-Monsieur said that… that… I would be… y-your _bride_ tonight…"

Her words hung in the air like a heavy fog…

_This_ was why she was so frightened…

_This_ was why she trembled in his arms even now!

Erik severed all contact with her immediately, leaving the poor girl kneeling on the floor and weeping. He moved as far away from her as he could, trying desperately to control his anger.

He wanted to _kill_ Boisvert for inciting such fear in Marie-Eve! Even more so, for he had made her fear _him_. Him! Her own father! Forget that Marie-Eve was his daughter… She was just a child! Did Boisvert truly believe that he was some wicked creature capable of doing such a thing to a little girl?

"_But you **did** do such a thing to Christine_," a taunting voice in his head reminded him. "_Remember_?_ The woman you supposedly loved more than life itself_?"

Erik crouched on the floor, his fingernails digging into his skin as he clutched at his own arms, trying to force the anger down.

"Marie-Eve! I'm sorry!" Erik cried desperately. "Please, I… I was just trying to make you feel better! I didn't want _that_! I would never ask for _that_! I would never hurt you, my child!"

The anger was rising to the surface… Erik could not remember being so angry! He was about to start into a fit of profanity, but managed to control himself. He quietly began swearing in Persian.

"What are you saying?" Marie-Eve asked. Her voice sounded somewhat calmer.

Erik sighed. She certainly had inherited her mother's curiosity. "I was just expressing how angry I am at Boisvert," he replied. "In Persian."

"Really?" Marie-Eve sounded intrigued. "Wow, you're really smart for a… uh… I mean…" she stammered.

"For a _circus freak_?" Erik supplied, his tone hardening.

"No!" Marie-Eve said quickly. "No, no, of course not! I just mean… well… you seem like you've been here your whole life and… who taught you?"

Erik sighed. "_No one_ taught me… I had to teach myself… When I was a child, I passed my time reading books… I learned a great deal… I ran away from home when I was a child with the intention of seeing the world… I eventually ended up working for the Shah of Persia."

"The Shah!" Marie-Eve gasped. "That must have been exciting!"

"Hardly… I was a slave…"

"Oh."

"I was there for two years… I was the Shah's _entertainer_, I suppose. I had to sing for him… sometimes I performed magic tricks at his feasts and celebrations… I used to spend my free time composing music down by the river Punjab… And during my time there I learned a little Persian vocabulary. I ran away when I was nine and Boisvert found me. I've been here ever since."

That wasn't entirely true… He _hadn_'_t_ been there ever since. He'd spent over twenty years living below the Opera Populaire in Paris… Then ten years in a small cottage not far from Marie-Eve's home. He'd only just recently become Boisvert's prisoner again.

"Don't you have a family?" Marie-Eve asked.

Erik paused, looking down at the floor. "My father died when I was very young. I don't remember him."

"And your mother?"

"…She hated me."

Marie-Eve nodded sadly. "I know how you feel. My mama doesn't like me either."

Erik looked up at her. "Why do you say that?"

"She never believed in me," Marie-Eve said sadly. "She thinks I'm silly to want to be a singer."

"Marie-Eve," Erik said. "Your mother is just trying to protect you."

"From what?" Marie-Eve asked incredulously. "What's so dangerous about singing?"

"_You_'_d be surprised_…" Erik thought to himself. Then he sighed. "Child, you must believe me… All mothers love their children…" He paused with realization. "Even _mine_!"

Marie-Eve looked down at her hands, than peeked up at him again. "I… I _am_ sorry for… for believing that… you would ever hurt me," she said meekly.

"Don't think of it," Erik said. He paused. Then he began chuckling.

"What is it?" Marie-Eve asked, failing to see any humour in their situation.

"I was just thinking… I would have loved to hear some of the gossip those rich folks would have been spreading over tea this afternoon!"

Marie-Eve paused. Then she started giggling too. "Yes, I would have loved to hear it, too!"

"At least we made their conversations a bit livelier!"

Marie-Eve paused. She was so certain that she knew his voice from somewhere. And after spending time with him, she felt as though she had _known_ him her whole life. But that was impossible. She didn't know anyone named Erik. And besides, it would have been impossible to forget a face like _his_.

She watched him silently for a moment, then she crawled forward and resumed their former position – she snuggled up against his chest as he held her in his arms. This time, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Erik," she whispered.

Erik felt happy and sad all at once. He missed hearing her call him "Papa."

"_Ange de Musique_, _mon guide_, _mon garde_, _accordez_-_moi_ _la_ _gloire_," Marie-Eve sang quietly. "_Ange_ _de Musique_, _sortez de l_'_ombre_. _Quand_ _viendrez_-_vous_, _cher Ange_?"

"Where did you learn to sing so beautifully?" Erik asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh… from an old friend…" Marie-Eve answered sleepily.

"He must have been very lucky to have you for a friend."

"No," Marie-Eve yawned. "_I_ was the lucky one… He was a genius…"

"Who was he?"

Marie-Eve's eyelids drooped and closed. She murmured into his chest, her warm breath tickling his skin. "He was an Angel…"

They fell asleep like that, Erik cradling his child in his arms, wishing he could give her a better life.

XxXxX

Raoul was asleep in bed. Christine bent over him and lightly kissed his cheek.

"Forgive me," she whispered. "But I cannot sit here and do nothing."

Christine went out to the stables and took her horse. She road off, leaving the small cottage behind her.

She had to find Marie-Eve…

XxXxX

It was almost a full day riding to reach her destination. It was almost evening before Christine found herself back at the fairgrounds. Tethering her horse to a tree, she sat down and waited for darkness to settle. Then she could enter the grounds. She knew Erik would help her any way he could. He might be able to tell her where Marie-Eve might have gone.

The darkness came swiftly. Everything was quiet down in the grounds. Christine was almost ready to make her move when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She whirled around.

"Raoul!"

"Did you expect me to just let you run off on your own?" he demanded angrily.

"Raoul…" Christine could offer no explanation.

"What if something had happened to you?"

Christine hung her head. She knew she should have trusted him.

"Well, I suppose you want to go alone again," Raoul directed his gaze towards the fairgrounds.

Christine nodded. "I think it is for the best… If I am not back in an hour, go get help."

Christine rushed down to the grounds again. She crouched beside the main tent to avoid being seen by anyone. That's when she heard Boisvert speaking angrily to Babet.

"Wouldn't sing!" Boisvert yelled. "That insolent brat thinks _she_'_s_ in charge! So things got out of hand yesterday! It's not like she got hurt!"

"Just be patient," Babet said. "You'll break that wild spirit of hers soon enough."

"Erik is the key… That much is certain…"

"She does seem rather attached to him."

"She certainly obeyed when I started beating him again!"

"But Erik's not one to be tampered with. You remember what happened last time he escaped."

"He escaped because Javert was incompetent! Besides, just as Erik is the child's weakness, so she is his!"

"He regards her almost like a daughter!"

"And he will obey me… when I threaten to _kill_ her!"

A rough hand grabbed Christine's shoulder. "What are you doing here!" a large gypsy bellowed at her.

Boisvert and Babet ran from the tent, finding the man holding Christine.

"Who are you?" Boisvert shouted.

"I–"

"You're a little thief come to rob me!" he accused.

"No!"

"You'll pay!" Boisvert grabbed her roughly and dragged her over to another tent.

Erik's tent, Christine realized.

Boisvert grinned. "People who make me angry get a special privilege… A night with the Phantom of the Opera!"

Christine's eyes grew wide. Boisvert laughed.

"I hope you're not married. You're _his_ bride tonight!"

Boisvert dragged her inside the tent. The padlocks on Erik's cage had been replaced and he lay inside, half-asleep. Boisvert opened the cage and hurled Christine inside. She tripped over Erik's sleeping form and feel on top of him.

"Have a lovely night!" Boisvert laughed. Then he left.

"Christine?" Erik whispered. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, Erik!" she cried, hugging him tightly. "Something terrible has happened!"

"Marie-Eve…" Erik said, knowingly.

Christine pulled back from him. She furrowed her brow, confused. "How did you…?"

"Mama?"

XxXxX

**Well, isn't this interesting? Erik, what are your comments?**

**_Erik_: Boisvert is a very bad man...**

**So true... Anything else you'd like to say?**

**_Erik_: Hmm... Well, now that you mention it, I hate how you keep portraying me as a softy! Hello? I'm the Phantom of the Opera! I kill people who make me mad! That's my thing! What is it with you people?**

**Well, I suppose I must respect your feelings... Anything else?**

**_Erik_: What is wrong with Marie-Eve? I'm supposed to be some scary-faced freak and she's coming up and hugging me all the time!**

**But... she's your daughter...**

**_Erik_: Well, she doesn't know that!**

**OK... Was there _anything_ you liked about this chapter?**

**_Erik_: Well... I'm locked in a cage with Christine now... (_grins evilly and rubs his hands together_) Muhahahaha!**

**Erik... She's married with two kids...**

**_Erik_: Well, one of 'em's mine!**

**That doesn't make her any less married...**

**_Erik_: Spoil-sport...**

**Sorry, Erik. Well, now you as a reader can have a few minutes with Erik as soon as you review. Until then, I'm putting my time in! (_Heads for closet_).**

**_Erik_: No! No, not again! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!**

**Send a review and spare Erik a few minutes with _me_! Muhahahahaha!**


	9. The Truth

**Wow, Erik... Last night just wasn't your lucky night...**

**_Erik_: Only one review? Do you guys hate me or something?**

**Maybe they just want to see us have a little more bonding time.**

**_Erik_: I have bonded with you more than I care dream!**

**Hmm... You might have a point... Alright, let's get it started in here! (_Does a funky dance_)**

**_Erik_: She hasn't stopped singing that song since last night!**

**XoAnGeL-Of ThE-NiGhToX: Well, at least Stephanie has been trying to save you, Erik. However, it's going to take a lot more reviews than that to save you from _me_!**

**_Erik_: I appreciate the effort, Stephanie.**

**New chappie! Hope you guys like this one!**

XxXxX

"Marie-Eve!" Christine reached through the bars of the cage to her daughter. She noted angrily that there was a nasty cut on one of Marie-Eve's cheeks.

"What are you doing here, child?"

"I'm so sorry, Mama," Marie-Eve said, her eyes filling with tears. "I should never had run away from you and Papa!"

"It will be alright my darling," Christine whispered soothingly. "It will be alright."

Sobbing softly, Marie-Eve related to Christine the story of how she had come to be at the fair and all that had happened since she arrived.

"Erik is my only real friend…" she said sadly.

Christine glanced at Erik, who immediately turned his gaze to the floor.

He hadn't told her…

"Marie-Eve, you must rest now," Christine told her. "Do not worry. Mama will take care of all this in morning. Everything will be alright. I promise."

"Mama, what will happen to me?" Marie-Eve whimpered.

"Rest, darling," she whispered. "You'll see me in the morning."

"I'll try," she sighed. She turned and laid on her side with her back facing Christine and Erik.

Christine sat silently for quite some time, waiting for Marie-Eve to fall asleep. After a long while, she was certain that the child sleeping. Little did she know, however, that Marie-Eve was a little insomniac like her father. Marie-Eve laid awake and alert, feigning sleep.

Her mother had embraced Erik when she saw him. Why? Marie-Eve got the feeling that her mother knew Erik, and she wanted to know why.

"You didn't tell her, did you?" Christine demanded of Erik angrily.

"What exactly was I _supposed_ to tell her?" Erik sounded equally angry.

"The _truth_ would have been a good start!"

"You're a fine one to talk! You've been lying to her since the day she was born!"

"Well, I never thought we'd run into _you_ again!"

"If you're trying to blame _me_ for this–"

"As a matter of fact, I am! This whole situation is entirely _your_ fault!"

"_My_ fault? If you had just taken her home like I told you–"

"If you hadn't taken her in the first place!"

"This all started because you've been lying to the poor girl for her entire life! I only took her because she asked – no – _begged_ me to! She despised living with you!"

"_How dare you_?" Christine raised her hand to slap him. He caught her by the wrist. They glared daggers at each other for several moments before she finally wrenched her hand away from him.

Christine's eyes suddenly filled with pain and anguish. Tears welled up under her eyelids.

"If… If you hadn't…" she choked.

Erik knew what she was referring to, and wished she wouldn't speak of it. "Please, don't…" he said softly.

Christine swallowed hard. "If you hadn't come to me… If you hadn't _forced_ your way into me… If you hadn't _raped_ me, none of this would be happening now!"

Erik felt as though he'd been stabbed with a knife as he listened to her words. Rape. She had never said it like that before. It was never mentioned, never talked about. And yet, that's exactly what it was. It was rape. Pure and simple. She had not wanted him, and he forced her to. And now look where they were…

"Christine," Erik whispered, shame filling him. "You don't mean that…"

"Don't I? You took advantage of me!"

"How many times must I apologize?"

"That changes nothing!"

"And if I hadn't… _dishonoured_ you…" He couldn't bring himself to say the actual word. "Would you still have Marie-Eve?"

Christine was silent. "I don't know… I don't know anything anymore… Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't…"

Marie-Eve shot straight up and glared at them both. Tears were spilling down her cheeks. "You both lied to me!"

Christine stared at her in shock. "Marie-Eve!"

"Is _this_ why I never felt like I belonged?" she demanded. "Because I never _did_?"

"No!" Christine cried. "No, my darling! We love you! We do! We… oh, God…" she moaned. "Oh God, oh God…"

"And what about _you_?" Marie-Eve turned on Erik. "You said you were an angel! Why? Just so I would _go_ with you?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like that…" Erik said softly.

"Then what, pray tell, was it supposed to be _like_? My whole life has been a lie!"

"Marie-Eve…" Christine pleaded.

"Don't talk to me!" Marie-Eve turned from them, then changed her mind and turned around again. Her angry eyes had faded and became sad and sorrowful. "Mama? Papa? Why didn't you just tell me? Why didn't you…? My father…?" She broke down into quiet sobs and moved as far away from them as her cage would allow. She curled up and cried softly, the quiet sound of her weeping wrenching at the guilty hearts of her parents, who listened helplessly until her cries subsided and she fell into a deep sleep.

"We haven't been very good parents, have we? Christine whispered to Erik.

"We've made a lot of mistakes," Erik agreed.

"There are a lot of things I wish I did differently."

"Like telling her the truth long before now?"

"That… and maybe supporting her more than I have…"

"You've only been trying to protect her…"

"Yes… from the only thing on earth that makes her happy."

"You had good reason to be afraid… That's probably my fault, too."

"Probably?" Christine laughed humourlessly.

"Alright… _definitely_ my fault, then."

Christine was quiet for a moment. "What happened between us?"

Erik glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

"When it all started out… everything was so simple. When did it get so complex?"

Erik shrugged. "I'm sure that's my fault as well… I should never have lied to you. It created a rift between us. And when you found out that I was not an angel… well, let's just say I don't blame you for being disgusted."

Christine gazed at him. "I wasn't disgusted… I still wanted to be your _friend_."

Erik nodded. "I know… But that wasn't good enough for me… and I was wrong…"

"I guess I kind of led you on," Christine admitted.

Erik glanced at the floor. "Perhaps…"

"And when Raoul came into the picture… you must have felt betrayed."

"A little… but if I had really loved you, I never would have done all the things I did to you…"

"And now?"

"You are a very special person to me and I care about you deeply… But you are Raoul's wife, and I have finally come to accept that after all these years…"

Christine smiled at him. Erik turned to gaze at Marie-Eve's sleeping form.

"She will hate me now," he said, his voice certain. "I lied to her… I tricked her… She would be foolish _not_ to hate me!" He glanced at the floor. "Well… At least it wasn't my _face_ that repelled her…"

Christine leaned close and entwined her hand with his. "She will forgive you, Erik… _I_ did…" With a sad smile, she gently kissed his deformed cheek.

Erik squeezed her hand. "Thank you…"

They fell asleep together… Not lovers, not enemies… just friends…

XxXxX

**Alright, then… Erik, what are your comments? **

**_Erik_: This chapter sucked! **

**Oh, now, Erik… If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all… Why didn't you like this chapter? **

**_Erik_: I basically just gave Christine the "let's be friends" speech! **

**Is there something wrong with that? **

**_Erik_: Hello? I'm locked in a cage with her, she's emotionally exhausted… I should have been… uh… _comforting_ her… if you know what I mean… **

**Oh, for the love of mankind, is that all you ever think about? **

**_Erik_: Well, no… Sometimes I think about my friend Stephanie over here. **

**Is she in the closet with you already? **

**_Erik_: You'd better believe it! **

**Dare I ask what you two are doing? **

**_Erik_: Eating popcorn and watching a movie. **

**Oh, that's nice… What movie? **

**_Erik_: Jeepers Creepers 2. **

**Oh, geez, I hate that movie! It gave me nightmares for a week! **

**_Erik_: Wuss… Hey, some guy just got decapitated! Cool! **

**You're morbid! **

**_Erik_: 'Tis my pride… **

**I know I'll probably regret this later, but I'm coming in there to share the popcorn and… (_grimaces_) …watch the movie… Oh well, if I get scared I'll just cling to Erik for support. **

**_Erik_: Oh, no you don't! You are not going to get all cuddly on me! **

**Too late… Mmmm, you're soft… **

**_Erik_: Get off of me! **

**Sorry, no can do… I'm far too comfortable right now… Pass the popcorn Stephanie, would you? **

**_Erik_: I hate my life. **

**This popcorn is good… (_munches on popcorn_) Anyway, send a review, please… Apparently Erik will watch an entire bad horror movie with anyone who brings popcorn. That's two hours of blood and gore with Erik hogging the couch! Who could resist? **

**_Erik_: Why must you use me to buy reviews? **

**Is it my fault that all phan-girls find you irresistibly sexy? **

**_Erik_: How is it that I'm born a disfigured lunatic and everyone somehow thinks I'm still sexy?**

**I don't know. I just use what works. Alright, then! Review please, and don't forget the popcorn!**


	10. The Final Showdown

**Erik, you're a popular boy today.**

**_Erik_: Naturally.**

**Let's get to these reviews, then!**

**darklady5289: Erik, you are a very bad boy for thinking such naughty thoughts about Christine. On the plus side, this reader probably wouldn't mind being the subject of some of your fantasies.**

**_Erik_: Uh... Thank you?**

**Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Yes! You see, Erik? Some girls like sensitive guys... But the Lady of Mirkwood doesn't mind seeing you do the tough-guy act either. Oh, it seems that she wants to watch some mushy love movie with you... Hey... I think she's coming on to you...**

**_Erik_: I still think you two are insane. You both have fictional men locked in your closets. It's unnatural.**

**_Legolas_: None the less, I am still enjoying myself.**

**_Erik_: Go back to your closet, elf-boy!**

**_Legolas_: Don't call me elf-boy, corpse-face!**

**_Erik_: Why, you little...!**

**As much as I would love watching this battle of wits continue, _we_ have to continue.**

**phantomfreak258: Wow, you just want me to get down to business, don't you? Make Marie-Eve love Erik again and make Boisvert pay for being such a loser... That's a pretty tall order for just one chapter!**

**_Erik_: I actually like the way she thinks. Give me a rope and I'll take care of the latter request!**

**I'm _not_ giving you your noose back!**

**_Erik_: Spoil-sport.**

**Canace Panther: Hey, Erik! You made her squeal! Oh, and I thinks she's going to be bringing ice cream sundaes to the closet tonight!**

**_Erik_: Whoa! Bad idea! Have you guys _seen_ the authoress after she's had chocolate syrup? She's even more insufferable than she normally is!**

**Oh, yes... We're going to have fun tonight...**

**Kodukadvakch: Well, good news, Erik... She's not German.**

**_Erik_: She isn't? That's a relief.**

**Yup. She's from Tennessee...**

**_Erik_: Oh, great. Well, I suppose could be worse. She could be some eskimo-hugging weirdo from Ontario.**

**I've never hugged an eskimo... Anyways, she brought some homemade brownies! And she brought _The Ring_. We can watch that tonight! Unfortunately, this "get out of the closet free" card has expired.**

**_Erik_: NOOOOOOOOO!**

**How tragic. Anyways, technically I am an E/C shipper as well, but I don't mind ones where they _don_'_t_ get back together as long as Erik gets a happy-ending.**

**_Erik_: Oh, how sweet of you...**

**Cassiel Oliviari: Hey, Erik! Someone's on your side for once! The review was a little vague, but I think she was hoping that I would make you and Christine get jiggy with it in the last chapter.**

**_Erik_: Tell her to go back and read chapter one... It seems you've already decided that I'm not going to get my way for the rest of the fic! (_Starts pouting_).**

**Paige Turner3: Hee hee... I like this girl...**

**_Erik_: Dare I ask why?**

**Because... She thinks you look like a year-dead corpse... And that you're highly mentally unstable...**

**_Erik_: _What_? Hey!**

**Don't worry. Other than that she thinks your daughter is cool and she's still pleasantly attracted to you.**

**_Erik_: Oh, that makes me feel soooooo much better!**

**Em: Well, she was brief. Basically, she just wants back in the closet. She even brought popcorn!**

**_Erik_: _That_ automatically makes her my favourite person for the night.**

**Well, on that happy note, here's the new chappie!**

XxXxX

Raoul sat very still, waiting… Christine was not back yet. It had been too long. He knew what he had to do. And he didn't want to do it. But it had to be done…

He mounted his horse and made for the Paris police department. He burst inside, finding a sleepy officer at the desk, who looked up at him in surprise.

"Monsieur! Do you realize what time it is?" he asked incredulously.

"I must speak with the chief of police!" Raoul demanded.

As if waiting for his cue, Chief Inspector Lamarque came out of his office.

"Bruneau, who is this raving lunatic?"

"Sir!" Raoul exclaimed. "You must help me! My wife is in trouble!"

"What sort of trouble?"

"She's been kidnapped!"

"Ha! If I had a sou for every angry husband who comes in here each day claiming their wife has been kidnapped, I'd be a rich man! I tell you, Monsieur, she's probably run off! You know how women are!"

Raoul was quickly losing his temper. "I know who has her! I know where she is! You will gather your men and help me retrieve her! _Now_!"

Lamarque was shocked that this… this _common_ _labourer_ was giving _him_ orders! "Monsieur, just _who_ do you think you _are_?"

"I am Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny!"

"_What_?" Lamarque exclaimed. "Impossible! The Vicomte de Chagny disappeared–"

"Ten years ago! Along with Christine Daaé, the opera singer! My _wife_!"

The chief of police nearly fainted. "Monsieur le Vicomte! I… I…"

"You will do as I say, or I swear I will see you demoted to a guard at the Opera Populaire!"

"Y-yes sir! Anything you say!"

Raoul exhaled. _Finally_ he was getting somewhere!

XxXxX

Boisvert was in a particularly good mood the next morning. It was time to let that little thief go… that is, if the demon hadn't devoured her already. If he had, Boisvert was certain it would just be good publicity for the monster anyway.

Boisvert entered the tent. "Upsy-daisy, kids!"

However, Boisvert found that everyone was already awake. Christine stood, glaring at Boisvert defiantly. Erik stood by her with a protective arm around her shoulders. Marie-Eve was curled up in the corner of her cage, looking very worried.

Boisvert glanced up at Erik and Christine. They certainly made an odd couple.

"Would you like me to call a preacher?" Boisvert sneered.

"We're leaving," Christine said boldly.

"_What_?"

"We're leaving. Now. All three of us."

"I said I'd let _you_ go in the morning," Boisvert growled, nearing the cage. "But the other two belong to me!"

"They do not! She is my daughter… and _he_ is her father!"

"Well, aren't we just the happy little family?" Boisvert said mockingly. "Well, then, I hope you like it in there, because now you're not ever going to leave!"

Erik lunged through the bars, grabbing the keys in Boisvert's hand.

"Damn you!" Boisvert screamed. "You fools!" he cried to the gypsies working outside the tent. "Help me! Get in here!"

But even as the gypsies began to swarm the tent, Erik had already managed to get the key into the lock. One large gypsy picked up a whip and drew it back, slashing Erik's arm. Erik cried out, but remained intent on his purpose. He turned the key and kicked open the gate.

Erik leapt down, fighting back the angry mob. The keys dropped from his hand as he was sucker-punched by a short, stout man. The whip landed across Erik's shoulder, drawing a red line that opened and began to bleed.

"Stop it!" Christine leapt down to help Erik. But Boisvert grabbed her by the wrist, shaking her violently.

"I'll teach you to meddle in things that don't concern you!" he bellowed, raising a fist to strike her. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed Boisvert's wrist from behind. Boisvert was spun around and found himself looking into the angry eyes of the Vicomte de Chagny.

"I would not try that, Monsieur," Raoul growled. In a split second, Inspector Lamarque and his men swarmed the tent, and then all Hell broke loose. It was the gypsies versus the law.

In the middle of the mayhem, Erik grabbed up the keys from the ground. Unlocking Marie-Eve's cage, he held out his arms to her. "Marie-Eve! It's not safe here! You must get out!"

Marie-Eve stared at his outstretched arms dubiously.

"Marie-Eve!" he pleaded. "I know I am not a good father and that you have every right to hate me! But I'm begging you… Please trust me just this once!"

Marie-Eve hesitated only a moment, then ran into his arms. Erik held her embrace for a brief second before helping her out of the cage.

"Now run!"

Marie-Eve did run, and she was only a few strides from freedom before Boisvert, who had escaped the angry Vicomte, grabbed her by the arm and drew a pistol.

"You have aggravated me for the last time!" he bellowed, pointing the gun at her head.

"No!" Raoul grabbed Boisvert's hands and wrestled with him for the gun. Boisvert lifted his leg and kicked Raoul in the stomach, knocking him to the floor.

"Papa!" Marie-Eve cried. Boisvert turned and pointed the gun at her again.

"Say good-bye to your Papa!" Boisvert laughed evilly as he squeezed the trigger.

A blur passed before Marie-Eve, blocking her from Boisvert's view. There was the sickeningly soft sound of hot lead tearing through flesh as Boisvert's bullet met its target. Then Boisvert saw Erik there, lying at Marie-Eve's feet. Blood spilled out onto his chest from the tiny hole created by Boisvert's bullet.

Boisvert let out an angry cry before a dozen police officered surrounded him. The rest of the gypsies were being prepared for transport to prison.

"No!" Boisvert screamed as he was dragged away.

Raoul, barely recovered from the kick to his stomach, rushed to his daughter's side.

"Papa…?" she shifted her gaze from Raoul to Erik's crumpled form and back again. There was a pleading look in her eyes, begging Raoul to tell her everything would be alright.

Raoul kneeled over Erik's body. "Somebody get a doctor! Now!"

XxXxX

**Erik… Your comments? **

**_Erik_: (_crosses his arms_) Why did you have to send the stupid fop to my rescue? I could have gotten us out of there! **

**Erik, you being mauled by a gang of fat gypsies. **

**_Erik_: Well… I was just about to Punjab the lot of them! **

**Erik, I didn't give you a rope! Remember? **

**_Erik_: (_pouts_) Do enjoy making me look helpless? **

**Well, I suppose I _do_ derive a little amusement from it, yes. **

**_Erik_: Well, on the other hand, I jumped in front of a bullet, which I suppose makes me look very brave. **

**There you go! The ladies will be lining up at the closet tonight to tell you how wonderful you are… After they review, of course! **

**_Erik_: Yeah, well… It's gotten a little crowded in there. Em turned on _A Walk to Remember_…And Canace Panther keeps trying to give me a moustache with the whipped cream off her ice cream sundae... And Stephanie and the Lady of Mirkwood keep fighting over who gets to sit next to me... I pop in periodically for some popcorn, but the movie leaves much to be desired.**

**Really? I thought that movie was really good in a sad, tragic way. **

**_Erik_: Yeah, well, you would! Bad boy meets nice girl and falls in love with her! Puh-lease! That is so stupid! **

**Yeah… Right up there with a deranged homicidal maniac meeting an innocent young opera singer and falling in love with _her_… **

**_Erik_: Alright, shut up. **

**OK guys, let us know what you think of this chapter, and send a review! Check in tomorrow for an update. **

**_Erik_: You're going to make me recover, right? **

**Uh… **

**_Erik_: _RIGHT_? **

**Alright, I'm not going to spoil tomorrow's chapter! Just review and let us know what you think! **

**_Erik_: Authoress, if you kill me I will kill _you_! **

**Ooo, I'm shaking in my chair. **

**_Erik_: You suck! I'm going back to the closet for some more popcorn! **

**Oh, is that a last meal? **

**_Erik_: (_growls_) Deranged female… **

**Please review! Oh, and if Erik's grumpy when you go to see him in the closet, don't take it personally. He's a little stressed… **

**_Erik_: That can happen when one gets stuck working with _you_!**

**(_Sigh_) He has no sense of humour... Oh, well... We'll be glad to hear from you, so please drop us a line!**


	11. The Confession

**Thank you, everyone who reviewed! Your comments are appreciated. We watched _The Ring_ last night. I didn't really like that ending, but I think Erik liked it... He's been acting really weird ever since, though... (_Cell phone rings_._ Picks it up_) Hello?**

**_Erik_: Seven days...**

**Very funny, loser... ****Well, Erik, generally this time through I'm the Spawn of Satan and you're everybody's new best friend...**

**_Erik_: 'Tis how it should be... I swear, if you kill me-**

**Now, Erik, let's not do anything rash.**

**_Erik_: Well, let's get on with it, then! I want to know what happens!**

**Now if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sounded almost excited to read the new chapter... OK, then...**

**phantomfreak258: Well, this girl seems to _really_ want you to get better, Erik... She's even threatened to stop reviewing if you don't...**

**_Erik_: Well, she's right of course! You can't have a fic without _me_!**

**darklady5289: Someone's on your side for once! She thinks I'm horrible, and that I should stop being so mean to you.**

**_Erik_: Your comments are appreciated. It's about time someone told the authoress off!**

**I think she just wanted a little closet-time...**

**_Erik_: Figures...**

**Paige Turner3: Well, here's someone who is quite confident that you'll recover.**

**_Erik_: I appreciate your faith in me, but I don't trust the authoress.**

**Em: Awww... She likes me!**

**_Erik_: Oh, puh-lease...**

**But once again, she wants you to get better.**

**_Erik_: Well, thank you dear...**

**But she didn't appreciate your comments about _A Walk to Remember_...**

**_Erik_: Is it my fault that I'm just not into chick-flicks?**

**Anyways... Onto _The Confession_...**

**_Erik_: AKA - _Erik_'_s miraculous recovery_!**

**Erik, just read the chapter and keep your mouth shut!**

XxXxX

The doctor left Erik's room, a grim expression on his face. Erik had been rushed to the nearest hospital, where Christine, Raoul, and Marie-Eve had been waiting for the past several hours.

"Monsieur…?" the doctor addressed Raoul.

"Doctor?"

"We removed the bullet from Monsieur Erik's chest. The fellow is darn lucky. It barely missed his heart and lungs."

"But…?" Raoul prodded, sensing the man had more to say.

"Monsieur Erik lost a lot of blood. He is a strong man and is fighting for all he is worth but…" the doctor sighed heavily. "But it could go either way."

Raoul looked at the floor. "Is there nothing more we can do?"

"Just be ready… If the time comes… Monsieur does happen to be awake, but is very weak. Normally, we don't let family members visit under these circumstances, but in this case," the doctor glanced at Christine and Marie-Eve, "in this case, I think we could make an exception…"

"Thank you, doctor." Raoul turned to his wife and daughter. "May I?"

They nodded gently and Raoul entered Erik's room. The first thing Raoul noticed was how deathly white Erik was. He was wrapped up in several heavy blankets. Tiny beads of sweat formed on his forehead as Erik fought for his life.

"Erik?"

Erik turned his head slowly, struggling to make his eyes focus on Raoul's unmoving form.

"Vicomte?"

Raoul pulled up a chair beside Erik's bed.

"Erik… I have a confession to make to you…" Raoul began slowly. "I have never understood my wife's endless pity for you. I could not comprehend how she could continuously forgive you in spite of all the things you've done. Even after you took Marie-Eve, she did not feel anger towards you. However, I…" Raoul exhaled heavily. "I hated you. I felt no sorrow when I heard that you had been captured by that evil man again. I thought you were getting what you deserved."

Erik closed his eyes. "I understand…" he whispered hoarsely.

"But then I watched you take a bullet that was not meant for you. You shielded Marie-Eve with your own body. You risked your life to save my daughter." Raoul looked deep into Erik's now-open eyes. "And she _is_ my daughter as much as she is yours. When you did that, I finally understood Christine. She always told me that you weren't a bad person, and now I realize that she was right. You are more a man than any other I know." Raoul stood up and grasped Erik's hand. "Thank you, friend…"

Raoul turned and left the room without another word. Then Christine entered.

"Erik…" She brushed a stray lock of hair from his eyes. He reached up and touched her hand.

"Christine… I'm so sorry… For everything…"

Christine laid her hand against his deformed cheek. "I'm not… You gave me a gift… You gave me Marie-Eve."

"I should… should never have… taken her…" he managed.

"All fathers deserve to know their daughters…" she whispered softly. "And if it isn't already apparent, I forgive you for what is past." She leaned down and gently kissed his lips.

"Take care of Marie-Eve," he rasped.

Christine turned and left the room with tears in her eyes. A moment later, Marie-Eve entered.

"Papa?" She approached the bed timidly.

"Marie-Eve…" he struggled. "You… you don't… have to… to call me…"

"You _are_ my Papa!" she insisted. "Now I have two papas, and I love them both very much."

"My angel…" he whispered as she picked up his big hand in her two small ones.

"Papa… I'm sorry for what I said to you… before… I think I understand why you did what you did." Small tears slid down her cheeks.

"_Hush_-_a_-_bye_, _mon ange_… _It will be alright_…" he choked.

"Oh, Papa!" she cried. "You must get better! You must!"

"Marie-Eve… Let me tell you a story…" Erik's voice assumed newfound strength. "Once upon a time, many years ago, a boy was born. He was a helpless infant whose only desire was to be loved, just like any other child. But the boy had been born with a terrible deformity on his face, and his own mother could not bear to look at him. The boy pleaded with his mother, doing everything he could to please her, hoping that one day she might love him as he loved her. He wished for her only to hug him, or kiss him, but every time he tried to show his affection, she would throw a mask at him and force him to wear it. The boy felt completely isolated and very lonely. He attempted to pass his time by reading the multitude of books in his home. He learned many useful things – architecture and design, philosophy, science… But the boy found true peace in music. He learned how to compose. He would write songs for his mother and sing to her, desperately hoping to win her love. But the pitiful boy soon came to realize that his mother would never love him. So he ran away from her, never looking back, and began his quest for acceptance.

"He travelled many days and nights alone. One evening he was captured by Persians and taken away to be sold as a slave. He ended up becoming a servant for the Shah of Persia. The boy was treated horribly, and he found no friends among his fellow slaves. He felt more alone than ever before, but forced himself to find peace in his music. Two years passed in this manner, and the boy tired of his ill treatment at the hands of the Shah. He managed to escape back to France, his country of birth. He was tired, hungry, and alone, but his heart still hoped that one day he would find someone who could love him. Yes, he dreamed of an angel… A beautiful angel who would share his passion for music and love him in spite of his ugliness.

"It was not long after the boy returned to France that he was discovered by gypsies. The gypsies captured him, hoping that they might profit off of him in their travelling fair. The boy was exploited for his hideousness, until a day when someone discovered his rare musical capabilities. So the gypsies made him perform everyday for a paying audience, and he was beaten severely if he refused. Finally, one night, a young ballerina came to the fair, and pitied the poor boy. That night, after being severely whipped, the boy retaliated in anger and killed his keeper. The ballerina, who had come back to see him, found him with the dead body. She helped him escape and took him to the caves below the Opera Populaire in Paris.

"There, the boy lived alone for many years, until he grew to be a man. He became cold and bitter and as dark as the caves in which he dwelt. Then one day, he fell in love with the angel of his dreams. She was very much an angel – innocent, gentle, and kind – and she appeared to him in the form of a woman. But the woman loved someone else, and the hideous man's heart decayed with jealousy and hatred. Then one night, he did something terrible to the woman. She had a baby soon after… a little angel. The angel was raised as the daughter of another, and the dark man watched her grow up from a distance.

"Finally, years later, the man met his angel for the first time, and she showed him more joy and happiness than he had ever known. His heart's deepest longing was finally fulfilled, for he knew that his little angel loved him. They were happy together, until the man's dark past caught up with him, and he let himself be wounded for his angel…"

"But then," Marie-Eve cut in, "the man got better and they all lived happily ever after! The end!"

Erik coughed wearily. "No, Marie-Eve. I don't think he will…"

"But Papa! I need you! I love you, Papa!"

"Don't cry for me, little one… I am with you in music… and I'll always be in your heart… Marie-Eve… I love you…"

Erik's eyes closed and his hand became limp in Marie-Eve's grasp.

"Papa…?"

XxXxX

**Well, Erik? What did you think?**

**_Erik_: _YOU_ _BIXCH_!**

**Dear me... You kiss your mother with that mouth?**

**_Erik_: _WHY DID YOU DO THAT_?**

**Relax, Erik... You are too melodramatic...**

**_Erik_: What a way to end a fic!**

**Who said it was over?**

**_Erik_: It's not?**

**One more chapter, dude!**

**_Erik_: Well, it'll probably be a crappy chapter, too! Considering _I_ most certainly won't be in it!**

**Now, don't judge a fic before you finish reading it... I think everyone will like the last chapter.**

**_Erik_: You also think _Titanic_ was a good movie!**

**Sure... In a sad, tragic way... Maybe I'll get Raoul to say a eulogy at your funeral...**

**_Erik_: No way! That fop isn't saying _anything_ about me! Man, I hope you get flamed big time for this!**

**Well, you win some, you lose some... C'mon, let's go back to your closet. We'll watch _Darkness Falls_ and eat some popcorn and clodhoppers.**

**_Erik_: Clodhoppers?**

**Delicous little packages of graham cracker and chocolate. The ultimate comfort food! I eat them every time I'm depressed.**

**_Erik_: Well, combined with the popcorn and the movie, I just might find the heart to forgive you.**

**There you go! You're feeling better already! OK, guys... Please review and check in tomorrow for the last chapter! See ya!**


	12. The Angel's Wings

**Well Erik, are you ready for the last chapter?**

**_Erik_: Yeah, I guess... I'm still mad at you, though...**

**Well, you're not the only one. Let's get to it.**

**Em: Sorry about him dying. However, now Erik has plenty of time on his hands to watch Boogeyman with you, right Erik?**

**_Erik_: At least _she_ still cares about me!**

**darklady5289: Ouch! That sounded vaguely threatening...**

**_Erik_: What did she say?**

**Basically, she agrees with your foul language and there's a Punjab lasso with my name on it!**

**_Erik_: Alright! Tonight she gets to sit next to _me_ for the movie. Nice to see you get partially flamed now and then.**

**phantomfreak258: Erik, have you been jipping this girl on closet time?**

**_Erik_: Uhh...**

**Erik! You mean to tell me that you've been stiffing our loyal fans on their well-deserved closet time?**

**_Erik_: Hey, there's only so many hours in a day!**

**Sheesh... You owe her big! Other than that, she's quite confident that there will be some miraculous ressurection, otherwise I fear for my health. Apparently I'm breaking all sorts of written rules! Maybe I should have killed Raoul instead!**

**_Erik_: Sounds good to me!**

**Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Hey, you can't have Erik! He's like a brother to me! Who says I'm done with him?**

**_Erik_: Huh?**

**Oh, nothing... We're watching _Pirates of the Caribbean_ next... She's got Will Turner in her closet with Legolas! Wait... Does she realize they're the same person?**

**_Erik_: She wants me and Brad Pitt, too?**

**She's also got tigers... I've got to hang out in _her_ closet sometime! By the way, she says quit being so rude to me! At least I made your death comfortable!**

**_Erik_: It was still death!**

**Paige Turner3: It was very brief...**

**_Erik_: What did she say?**

**Not much... I think she was a little upset...**

**zero sparrow: I like this girl... I like her a lot! She thinks I'm wonderful, even when the logical thing to do would be to tell me what a horrible person I am for killing you... And she thinks you're sexy when you speak in French...**

**_Erik_: (_wink-wink_) Vive le moi, baby!**

**Oh, please...**

**_Erik_: Venez passer le temps avec moi dans mon cabinet!**

**Did you just ask her to come hang out with you in your closet?**

**_Erik_: You understood that?**

**Canadian, baby! It's mandatory that we take a total of at least eight years of French education during school...**

**_Erik_: Physco...**

**Why, thank you... Now, onto our last chapter... Maintenez votre bouche fermée et lisez-la, Erik! (Keep your mouth shut and read it, Erik!)**

XxXxX

_5 years later_…

"Christine! You're practically bouncing in that seat!"

"Oh, Raoul! Is it really the finale already? The whole performance has been wonderful!"

Christine smiled at Richard, who she could see in the orchestra pit from Box Five at the Opera Populaire. It turned out that Richard was quite talented with the bassoon. This was the first time he had ever performed in public, and he was marvellous!

The curtain rose for the final scene. Marie-Eve, now fifteen years old, stepped out in a beautiful shimmering gown.

"_Weep not for me_,_ my love_," she sang. "_Soon I_'_ll feel no pain_._ Don_'_t cry those tears_,_ for we will meet again_._ Don_'_t ask me to stay_,_ for I have no choice_._ Don_'_t let your heart be sad_,_ but let your soul rejoice_._ I am going to see an angel_,_ and I_'_ll watch over you_._ Just live your young life_,_ sing now_,_ that_'_s all I want you to do_._ I_'_ll be there in the sunlight_,_ in rain I_'_ll kiss your face_._ I am the wind that follows you_,_ that catches your embrace_._ You know I_'_ll never leave you_,_ we_'_ll never be apart_._ I love you_,_ my darling_… _And I am in your heart_…"

The audience, who had spent the entire time transfixed by Marie-Eve's voice, burst into applause. Marie-Eve curtsied deeply, then looked up, smiling at her parents in Box Five.

The curtain fell and Marie-Eve rushed away to her dressing room. Madame Giry intercepted her on the way to her door.

Madame Giry and Marie-Eve had become close when, four-and-a-half years earlier, she came to begin her career as a singer at the Opera Populaire. Marie-Eve knew of the close relationship Madame Giry had shared with her biological father… The woman became one of the few people Marie-Eve could confide in.

Madame Giry put her arms around Marie-Eve's shoulders, tears in her eyes. "You were beautiful, my dear," she whispered. "He would have been proud… I wish he could have seen you…"

Marie-Eve smiled faintly… This opera had been called _An Angel_'_s Wings_… And every word she sang made her think of _him_…

Marie-Eve entered her dressing room and changed quickly. Her parents and brother were waiting for her when she finally emerged.

"You were superb, my darling," Christine said, coming forward to embrace her.

"Just excellent," Raoul added, planting a kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Papa… Mama…" she replied. She looked at Richard. "You were sublime, Monsieur," she said grandly.

"As were you, dear sister," Richard replied, suavely kissing her hand.

"We were thinking about going to dinner…" Christine said. "Do you wish to join us?"

"I thank you for the offer, Mama, but if it's all the same, I wish to remain here a while longer…"

"Certainly…"

"_Of course_," Christine reflected. "_She needs time after she sings_…_ She wouldn_'_t even **think** of leaving here right after a performance_…"

"Any idea how long you'll need?" Raoul asked.

"A little while," Marie-Eve replied. "Go, enjoy your supper… I'll be along later…"

Bidding her farewell, her family left. Marie-Eve returned to her dressing room briefly to retrieve her cloak. She donned it, its black velvet blanketing her in warmth. With hasty steps she made her way up to the roof.

Snow was gently falling. A few flakes clung to her ebony hair, making a halo about her head. She sat at the foot of Apollo's lyre, her breath coming out in little white clouds. From the night sky, stars shone brightly forth, lighting up the earth below. A great, yellow full moon sat as the centrepiece in the sky, drawing her gaze. It seemed almost to smile at her as she sat perfectly still, watching it. It reminded her of a giant yellow eye.

Her thoughts were drawn to a man with similar eyes… Eyes that were exactly like her own… She thought of how tender those eyes were, how they had pleaded with her to love him… To look past his poor face and see him for who he truly was…

He truly was an angel…

"Papa," she whispered to the moon. "I hope I pleased you tonight…"

She sat there for a long time, simply staring at the yellow eye that called to her. The cold was beginning to penetrate her warm cloak and bite at her skin. Marie-Eve shivered slightly.

Then, all at once, the cold was gone. Marie-Eve felt a presence near her. A black shadow closed in around her like swirling mist. She closed her eyes, letting the shadow envelop her, sinking into his embrace.

"You made angels weep tonight," a silky voice whispered into her ear.

She opened her eyes and looked at him. His strong arms tugged her close, his black cloak falling around her shoulders.

Erik pressed his lips against her temple, pulling a smile from the girl.

"I could not have sung it if my teacher had not trained me so well," Marie-Eve replied, snuggling closer to his warmth. "The music was beautiful, Papa…"

Yes… Erik had composed _An Angel_'_s Wings_… It was a true masterpiece and no one could have sung it better than Marie-Eve.

More importantly, it was the first opera he had ever written that was not a tragedy…

"It was very kind of you to let my parents watch from Box Five, Papa," Marie-Eve said graciously.

"It was your brother's first performance. They deserved to watch from the best seat in the house. Tell Richard that I send my congratulations… his playing was beautiful." Erik smiled slightly. "A beautiful instrument to accompany a beautiful voice…"

"I didn't think you'd be there tonight," Marie-Eve said. "Where were you? Not in Box Five…?"

"I was above you…"

"What? You watched the whole opera from the catwalks?"

Erik shrugged. "Anything to hear my angel sing…" He frowned. "Though I must speak to my managers about that dress…"

Marie-Eve furrowed her brow. "Why? What was wrong with it?"

"Oh, nothing! Nothing at all! You looked stunning. So much so, I fear that all my free time will be taken up keeping an eye on all those boys who will wish to court you!" He lowered his voice. "My managers must understand that my daughter is too young to be courted!"

Marie-Eve nudged him playfully. "You wish me to remain a little girl forever?" she smiled.

"As long as possible…"

She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. Erik raised a gloved hand and brushed an ebony lock from her face. Suddenly, he felt very grateful that God wasn't the only One allowed to lay His eyes upon an angel.

God… Did He truly exist? It was something he would have to think about… Something he would have to consider. If He did exist, surely He was a cruel Being… He allowed Erik to suffer for so many years, denying him happiness and love, throwing trials at him everywhere he went…

But then… if God did exist… He had bestowed upon Erik the most precious of gifts… He had given Erik a heart that knew _how_ to love… A heart that was passionate… He had given Erik the gift of music…

And He had given Erik an angel…

Through all the trials that Erik had faced, he had never been in a situation that didn't – somehow, some way – turn out alright. His mother's hatred of him had given him the chance to discover for himself who he truly was. His mistreatment as the Shah's slave had taught him how to find peace in his music. All the time he spent being abused by Robert Boisvert had given him the determination to hang on when things seemed their worst. And it all came down to meeting Christine, learning how to love someone else, and, in time, learning how to love a child.

Then, of course, there was Erik's sudden recovery after being shot, which was nothing short of miraculous…

Perhaps God wasn't such a terrible Fellow after all…

"Papa?" Marie-Eve glanced up at him inquiringly. Why did he look so distant all of a sudden?

In the distance a church-bell rang, its chimes resonating clearly through the night.

Erik smiled faintly. "Did you know," he said, "that every time a bell rings, an angel receives his wings?"

Marie-Eve looked into his eyes. "You think an angel just got his wings?" she asked amusedly.

Erik looked completely serious. "I _know_ one did…"

She nuzzled up against him, her fingers entwining with his. "Sing to me, Papa?"

He smiled. "If I do, you'll fall asleep and I'll have to carry you home!"

She pouted, gazing at him with yellow eyes that were identical to his. "But I _am_ worth it, aren't I Papa?"

He sighed and began. "_Hush_-_a_-_bye_, _mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_._ Hush_-_a_-_bye_, _mon ange_._ Sleep through the night_._ Let me caress you_,_ let nighttime possess you_._ Hush_-_a_-_bye_,_ mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_. _Angels sing for you_,_ they come and implore you_, "_Don_'_t be afraid_,_ for you_'_ll be alright_." _Hush_-_a_-_bye_,_ mon ange_._ You_'_ll be alright_._ I_'_m right here watching you through the night_… _I_'_ll always be watching_,_ so you_'_ll be alright_."

His voice faded into the night. He looked down at the girl in his arms. Just as he had suspected, she had fallen asleep. He smiled faintly, then placed a kiss on her cheek. He thought he saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards as he did so.

He would have to carry her home, he knew. Fortunately, her family lived not far from the opera house, as Marie-Eve and Richard both performed at the theatre now and the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de Chagny were both involved with the Opera's business affairs.

He knew it was getting late and cold, but he remained seated where he was for just a bit longer, basking in the feeling of his daughter within his arms. He lifted a gloved finger and caressed her sleeping face. Then Erik's gaze was drawn upwards to the multitude of shining stars that smiled down upon them.

"Yes, my child…" Erik whispered into her ear. "Tonight, an angel received his wings."

THE END

XxXxX

**Well, Erik? Are you satisfied? Am I everyone's favourite authoress, now?**

**_Erik_: Yes! I'm still alive! **

**I had you going for a while there, didn't I? **

**_Erik_: You know what's depressing, though? With this being the last chapter, there won't be any more phan-girls bringing me popcorn. **

**Or watching bad horror movies with you. **

**_Erik_: _The_ _Ring_ was my favourite! **

**Don't worry, Erik… Since this is the last chapter, all of our readers are automatically invited to a pizza party in your closet. **

**_Erik_: _What_? Dozens of squealing, flirting phan-girls? That's it! I'm coming out of the closet! **

**Erik! I never would have guessed! **

**_Erik_: Huh? No! Not _that_ kind of coming out of the closet! Oh, you sick demon-child! **

**Well, Erik… It's time to say thank you to all our readers… Since they all love you, why don't you give the appreciation speech? **

**_Erik_: Oh, alright… Thank you everyone who reviewed… We enjoyed hearing what you had to say about the fic and we appreciated the constructive criticism… Thank you to everyone who read the story, we hope you liked it. Thank you everyone who brought popcorn, movies, snacks, etc, to my closet. I enjoyed them. And thank you to everyone who did their best to save me from the authoress by reviewing frequently. **

**Aww… That was sweet… **

**_Erik_: Yeah… I guess I still feel a little depressed that it's over. **

**Don't worry, Erik… I've got another fic lined up and ready to go! **

**_Erik_: You do? **

**Yeah. But unfortunately, we won't be able to start it up for another month, 'cause I'm going to be spending the next four weeks in Brazil. **

**_Erik_: You're going to Brazil? Yes! Four weeks without the authoress! Yay! **

**You're coming with me in my carry-on. **

**_Erik_: _What_? No! Spare me the torture! **

**Don't worry. You've got another four days to mentally prepare yourself. As for our readers, keep your eye out for my next fic, which I'll start posting at the end of August. It's name is _Monsieur and Madame le Fantôme_. **

**_Erik_: I kind of like that name. Do I marry Christine? **

**You'll have to wait and find out. So come on out and read that fic, and we'll let the closet mayhem unfold again! So come on out and read that fic, and we'll let the closet mayhem unfold again! **

**_Erik_: Have you no shame? **

**No… Not really… It's been great hearing from you guys. See you all at the party tonight!**

**Luv you all, and God bless!**


End file.
